A Dangerous Game
by CaroH
Summary: The team has a new mission and must overcome some new challenges
1. Prologue

This is a teaser chapter for a new story I am working on. I hope you enjoy it.

**A Dangerous Game**

**Prologue**

Callen stepped carefully from the prison bus, the fetters around his wrists and ankles severely limiting his movements. He shuffled into line keeping his gaze firmly on the dirt of the prison yard. Any long-term inmate knew better than to look the guards in the eye. The chains were starting to chafe the skin around his wrists and the knowledge that he was about to be locked in a cell wasn't doing anything to improve his sour mood.

He obediently followed his fellow inmates to the processing center where his shackles were removed and he was ordered to strip. The search was thorough, invasive and every bit as unpleasant as he'd expected. He gritted his teeth and reined in his temper. If he chose to resist he could do a significant amount of damage in the few seconds before he was overwhelmed. Only the thought of solitary confinement deterred him. He was handed a white t-shirt, dark blue pants and a matching top that looked and felt like medical scrubs. The only consolation was that he hadn't been sent to a prison where the uniform was an orange jumpsuit.

Once the paperwork was complete he collected a set of clean clothes, a blanket and a small bag of toiletries. He was destined for the maximum security wing. Door after door opened and closed taking him further away from freedom and sending a chill down his spine. He had never liked to be confined or to have his actions controlled.

Everywhere he looked there were security cameras and armed guards. The lights were dazzling, reflecting from the steel of the bars and the white walls. His arrival was met with curious stares from the other prisoners, some speculative and assessing while others were openly feral. He feigned disinterest. It wouldn't be long before he had to prove himself and he couldn't afford to show fear or weakness.

He was ordered to stop in front of a cell which was no larger than eight feet by ten. It contained bunk beds, a toilet and a small sink. The electronic lock clicked before the door slid open.

"Welcome to your new home," the guard said.

Callen unwisely raised his head, his mouth set in a hard line and his stare glacial. The guard rested a hand on his baton.

"You don't want to give me any trouble," the guard told him. "We were warned about you."

He swallowed hard and backed down reluctantly. The top bunk was already occupied. He paid no attention to his cell mate and dumped his small pile of belongings at the foot of the bottom bunk. He waited for the door to close before lying down, hands behind his head and eyes shut. The springs above him creaked.

"Name's Frank Mitchell. My friends call me Mitch."

"I'm not your friend," Callen said.

There was a long silence. "You'll need one. The last man who was put in this block didn't last a week."

"I can take care of myself."

"If you say so. What're you in for?"

"Why don't you shut up and mind your own business." Callen squirmed around trying to find a comfortable position on the lumpy mattress. "Look, I've only got a couple of weeks left on my sentence. I just want to do my time and get out. "

"Why'd they move you here?"

Callen sighed and sat up. "Are you always this fucking nosy?"

Mitch swung down from his bunk giving Callen his first good look at the man he'd be sharing this small space with for the next three weeks. Frank Mitchell was medium height, powerfully built, with sandy colored hair, pale blue eyes and a nose that had obviously been broken at least once. His age could be anything from forty to fifty and the pasty color of his skin indicated that he had been incarcerated for some time.

Mitch studied Callen and then nodded. "You look like you can take care of yourself. What job did they give you?"

"Kitchen, starting tomorrow. Anything else you want to know?" he asked sarcastically.

"Got a real attitude, haven't you? I wouldn't get too smart with the guards if you want to get time off for good behaviour."

"I've done my full sentence. People like me don't get early parole," he said bitterly.

A bell rang and the cell door opened. Callen raised an enquiring eyebrow.

"We get an hour's recreation in the yard every day," Mitch told him. "Make the most of it."

Callen stood up. "Better than the last place." He walked out to join the line of prisoners who were standing quietly under the watchful eyes of a dozen guards. They were led outside where he squinted up at the sun, happy to feel the warm air on his face.

The yard was surrounded by high walls topped with razor wire. There was a guard tower in one corner and several armed guards strategically placed around the perimeter. One heavy metal gate led deeper into the prison complex, providing no avenue of escape. The area contained two basketball courts, several tables and benches and absolutely no shade. There had to be over a hundred men, some gathered in groups, others seeking what solitude they could find in the overcrowded facility.

He strolled over to one wall, leaned his shoulder against it and crossed his arms. His hard gaze wandered around taking everything in while he listened surreptitiously to the conversations close to him. His relaxed stance was deceptive. He was on display and he knew it. He'd already identified the likely candidates who would try to test him; men who saw this prison as their hunting ground and who wouldn't welcome another predator.

It wasn't long before half a dozen Latino men of varying ages approached him. He straightened up, arms now hanging loosely at his sides. The largest man walked right up to him, invading his personal space. Callen returned his stare without the slightest hint of fear or apprehension.

"Fresh meat," the man said with a cruel smile.

"What do you want?" The noise around them was dying down and he wondered how long it would take for the guards to interfere.

"Respect."

Callen laughed at him. "You're out of your mind."

He was ready for the attack, twisting away from the hands trying to grip his arms. He landed a couple of hard punches and backed up breathing heavily. They approached him more warily the second time, trying to force him back against the wall with no way to escape. So far no-one had tried to stop them. Callen side-stepped and grabbed the man nearest to him, twisting his right arm behind his back and putting him in a chokehold. He applied enough pressure to keep the man under control.

"You want respect? Look for it someplace else." He shoved the man away from him as three of the guards finally took charge, herding the Latino gang away from him. He raised his hands to show that he wasn't looking for trouble.

"You just forfeited your recreation time," one of the guards said.

"Are you joking?" Callen asked incredulously. "They attacked me. I was only defending myself."

"It didn't look that way to me. Inside, and keep your mouth shut unless you want to lose all your privileges for a week."

Despite his defiance, he knew this was a battle he couldn't win. He turned toward the cell block door, cursing under his breath. It was only once he was back in his cell that he allowed himself to relax. Soon enough he'd have to put his guard back up. He'd shown his teeth but that didn't mean that he was safe.

Tbc

Caroline

November, 2012


	2. Chapter 1

After the teaser in the prologue it's time to explain what is going on. Thanks to my betas.

**A Dangerous Game**

**Chapter One**

**One week earlier**

"Your target is Frank Mitchell," Hetty said.

Callen stood in the Ops Center with his team. A series of pictures appeared on the screen together with a prison file. "Who is he?"

"Nobody, except for his family connections," Hetty said.

He looked at her quizzically. "Want to share with the rest of the class?"

Hetty smiled. "Yes, of course, Mr. Callen. Mitchell's brother-in-law is the founder and President of Carter International."

"I've heard of him," Sam said. "Brandon Carter was a Captain in the Marines. He fought in Desert Storm and made a name for himself when he rescued two of his men under heavy fire. They were wounded and wouldn't have made it out if he hadn't risked his own life to save them. After the war he took an honorable discharge and set up his own security company. With his reputation and connections he made a fortune. He's still regarded as a hero." He turned to Hetty. "Why are we investigating him?"

"Mr. Carter has fingers in a lot of different pies. He has training contracts with all branches of the military. He also has security and weapons contracts in Iraq and Afghanistan. It is rumoured that he runs a mercenary force for sale to the highest bidder."

"None of that's illegal," Callen said.

"That is true. However, questions are now being asked about how he gets his contracts. There is a belief in some quarters that he is using bribery and intimidation of government and military officials. We have been ordered to investigate."

"Why are we going after Mitchell if it's Carter we want?" Deeks asked.

"His sister is Carter's wife. Mitchell served with Carter and took his discharge at the same time. He was working as head of security at the company and has become known for his ruthless methods of enforcement. Fortunately for us he got careless and was convicted of a brutal assault on one of his fellow employees. The suspicion is that the man was about to provide information to the FBI that would have been very damaging. The attack left him in a coma from which he is not expected to wake up. Mitchell is a year into a ten-year sentence."

"How do we get to him?" Callen asked.

"We put you in prison with him," Hetty said. "Miss Jones has all the details of your alias. The back stopping is thorough and will stand up to the most intense scrutiny."

"How does that help us to get inside Carter's operation?" Kensi asked.

"Mr. Callen's cover is as a Marine who has been Court-martialed for selling arms and equipment to street gangs in San Diego. Having served the bulk of his sentence in a military prison he will be transferred to a Federal penitentiary to serve out his remaining few weeks before being released back into society. He will be sharing a cell with Frank Mitchell."

"You think Mitchell will recommend him to his brother-in-law?" Sam asked. "You're not giving Callen much time to work that angle."

"We are on a tight timetable. In eight weeks the Government is going to award a very lucrative contract for training the Afghan military. Carter International is the favored bidder. We would like to find out whether he is dirty before the contract is handed out."

"What about back-up?"

"While incarcerated he will be on his own, Mr. Hanna."

"That's not acceptable," Sam stated.

Callen grinned at his over protective partner. "I don't need you to watch out for me all the time, Sam."

"Mitchell's in a maximum security facility. Do you know how dangerous those places can be?"

"It won't be my first time in prison," Callen said without elaborating.

"The warden is aware of our plan and will do all he can to keep an eye on you. We can't risk anyone else knowing so you do need to be careful," Hetty warned.

"What about the rest of us?" Deeks asked.

"You will all have your parts to play. You, in particular, will be an important resource for Mr. Callen once he is released."

Deeks grinned at Kensi. "Did you hear that? I told you that I was important."

Kensi rolled her eyes in only partly feigned despair. "Only in your own little fantasy world."

"I'll have you know that I don't need to fantasize. Well, except for the one where you treat me with the respect I deserve." Deeks looked at Sam and the scowl that had appeared on the older man's face. "I'm going to shut up now."

"Wise choice." Sam turned his attention back to Hetty. "I'm Callen's partner," he said.

"Yes, but you have a different role. Because of the urgency we will be approaching this operation from two angles. You will be working inside Camp Pendleton. Get close to the man in charge of vetting contract tenders. Find out if he is being paid to eliminate the competition. Now, let's get to work. There is a lot to do and very little time. Miss Blye, Mr. Deeks, you will start by examining all the contracts previously awarded to Carter International to see if there have been any anomalies."

Deeks groaned. "That'll take weeks and you know how much I hate paperwork."

"Then I suggest you get started," Hetty said. "The boxes of files have been delivered to your desks."

Callen followed his uncharacteristically silent partner down the stairs to the bullpen. "Want to tell me what's bothering you? And don't say you're worried about me going undercover."

"Who wouldn't be worried? Every time I let you out of my sight you get into trouble."

"That's not true," Callen protested.

"Let's see." Sam turned to confront him. "There was the time you let Keelson burn you and then when you got tangled up with that crazy militia group."

"I had that under control. You're the one who got us caught."

"That was to save you from adding to your collection of bullet holes."

"You're conveniently forgetting all the times I've had to pull your ass out of the fire."

"That's my point. We're a team and we operate better together."

Callen shook his head. "What's this really about, Sam?"

Sam sat at his desk. "Brandon Carter is a war hero. It doesn't feel right us having to investigate him."

"He wouldn't be the first person corrupted by money and power," Callen replied. He knew that Sam sometimes had a hard time accepting that a previously honorable serviceman could turn to illegal activities. "We'll go into this with an open mind just like usual. The fact that we've been asked to look into his business dealings doesn't mean he's dirty."

"I don't like it."

"I know. Are you going to be able to do this?"

"Have I ever let you down?"

They both knew the answer to that so Callen just smiled in response.

NCISLA

**Present day**

When the cell door opened Callen stepped outside. The inmates were making the most of their leisure time to play cards, talk and, he suspected, indulge in some less than legal activities. The guards weren't paying close attention leading him to wonder how many had been paid off to turn a blind eye to the drug dealing and bullying. He stood by the railing, alert for further threats and discouraging anyone who came too close with a cold stare and ferocious scowl. It wasn't long before Frank Mitchell joined him.

"Do you have a death wish?" Mitchell asked.

"Not particularly."

"You could have fooled me. If you only have a couple of weeks left why didn't you give them what they want?"

"I don't take orders well."

Mitchell gave a humorless laugh. "I can tell. You made one hell of an impression. Not many people stand up to Hector Mendez and his boys."

Callen abandoned his scrutiny of those around him to focus on Mitchell. "What do you know about him?"

"The only thing you need to know is that he's well-connected."

"Am I supposed to be impressed?" Callen asked.

"Impressed or dead. Your choice."

"I don't much like those choices," he said dismissively. "Why do you care what happens to me?"

"I don't like to see talent going to waste. Where'd you learn to fight like that?"

Callen suppressed a smile. "Courtesy of Uncle Sam."

"Military? What branch?"

"There you go again asking personal questions that are none of your fucking business." Callen turned away, making it clear that he'd finished with the conversation.

"Alright, I can respect a man's privacy," Mitchell said. "How about we make a deal? You tell me your name and I'll tell you who else you need to watch out for?"

Satisfied he'd done enough to provoke Mitchell's interest Callen appeared to relent. "Nick Edwards."

NCISLA

Callen made it through the rest of the day without further incident although he was aware he was being closely watched. From the information supplied by Mitchell he knew that Mendez would get the first chance to teach him a lesson. If Mendez failed, he could look forward to further challenges.

They were locked up at nine with lights out an hour later. Mitchell had stopped probing for information although Callen caught his appraising looks several times. He was dreading the nights. At best he slept only a few hours at a time, occupying himself after that by tinkering with electronic equipment and practicing his languages. This confinement was going to make for long boring nights.

He lay on his back staring up at the bunk above him and conducting a silent conversation in Russian. After a while he switched to Romani, a language he was learning from Hetty. According to her there were several distinct dialects. He was learning the Balkan variety which had been spoken by the Comescu family. It was another step in his long journey to uncover his heritage.

Finally he drifted off to sleep, waking an indeterminate time later. He repeated the process until he was woken at five a.m. and told to report to the kitchen. It was a relief to be able to move around even though he was expecting the day to bring another attempt to beat him into submission.

When he reached the kitchen he was handed a grey apron which was marred by several dried in stains. With a resigned sigh he put it on. It wasn't the first time he had worked in a kitchen. At sixteen he had given up on school and the foster care system which had never really known what to do with him. He'd spend more than a year working three minimum wage jobs and living in a tiny low rent apartment. His fantasy of having a home of his own had quickly evaporated when he found that it wasn't in his nature to settle down. His quick mind and a driving ambition had refused to let him settle for a mundane existence. He took classes at night school and graduated at nineteen with an impressive GPA. Then, unaware of the irony, he had joined the 'family business.'

Callen brought his thoughts back to the task at hand, aware that if his life had taken a different path he might have ended up in prison instead of being here as part of an undercover operation. Since he was the newest member of the kitchen staff he was given the grunt work; hauling garbage to the large bins, wiping down the tables and mopping the floor. At six breakfast was served and he was expected to collect the dirty plates, scrape them off and rinse them ready for the industrial size dishwashers.

He worked hard and efficiently, taking care not to draw too much attention from his fellow prisoners or the guards. By the time he was allowed to sit down to eat he was tired, hungry and in need of a shower. It was another hour before he was released from his duties. Most of the other inmates had started their daily chores leaving the cell block eerily quiet. He obtained permission to take a shower before starting his next shift at eleven.

The warm water washed away the stench and grime, although he knew that it would only take a few hours for him to feel dirty again. The shower timed out all too soon and he wrapped a towel around his waist. He was on his way to fetch his clothes when Mendez and three of his men walked in. Callen was acutely aware of his vulnerability and backed away to put more distance between himself and his opponents. He wondered fleetingly which guard was on Mendez's payroll.

"I am prepared to give you a chance to reconsider," Mendez told him.

Callen shook his head, mentally preparing himself for the inevitable fight. He knew that it would be pointless to call for help. Even if he'd thought any of the guards would respond, it would destroy his credibility. "Why does it matter?" he asked.

"You embarrassed me yesterday," Mendez said. "I cannot allow that."

Two of the men moved forward to flank Callen. He took another step back and collided with the wall. Surrounded and outmaneuvered he swung a punch at the man on his left. The blow connected solidly with the man's nose. Callen felt the bone break and saw blood starting to gush. A fist hit the right side of his face causing him to stagger. With bare feet he couldn't get any traction on the wet floor which threw him even further off-balance.

The distraction allowed the third man to get close enough to hit him in the stomach. He gulped in air, realizing that his only option was defence. He was backed into a corner doing the best he could to block the flurry of blows. One punch caught him on the jaw, snapping his head back and into contact with the wall. His vision darkened. By the time he could see clearly again his arms had been twisted behind his back depriving him of any leverage. He glared at Mendez with undisguised contempt.

Mendez smiled and reached into his pocket. When Callen saw that Mendez was holding a razor-sharp shiv he renewed his struggles and reconsidered his decision to remain silent. Before he could draw breath to yell a hand was pressed firmly over his mouth, muffling his cry for help. "Crap," he thought as Mendez drove the shiv toward his belly.

Tbc

Caroline

November, 2012


	3. Chapter 2

**Thanks to my betas as to everyone reading this story. Reviews are welcome.**

**A Dangerous Game**

**Chapter Two**

The grip on Callen's left arm had eased fractionally when his assailant removed one hand to silence him. Years of training and a strong sense of self-preservation kicked in automatically, stopping him from panicking and showing him one slender hope for survival. He pivoted to his right, dragging the man holding his left arm with him and ignoring the scream of protest from the muscles in his shoulder. Although he only gained a few inches before they brought him back under control it was enough to ensure that the shiv didn't bury itself in his body. The sharp blade sliced across his bare flesh leaving a line of blood in its wake.

He had bought himself no more than a brief reprieve. Still under duress and muzzled his options were limited and he didn't think Mendez would miss a second time. Anger and regret were mixed with fear. He raised his head to look defiantly at the man who was trying to kill him. Mendez returned the look with a feral snarl as he prepared to deliver the fatal blow.

Callen was saved by the sound of boots pounding across the tiles. Two guards ran into the room, guns drawn.

"Drop it, Mendez," one ordered.

Although Mendez sneered at them he obeyed and the shiv hit the floor. The men holding Callen released him and backed away. Their colleague whose nose he had broken shuffled over to join them, tears of pain running down his cheeks. Callen drew in a couple of shaky breaths and shivered as the adrenaline left his body.

"Get dressed, Edwards, and report to the infirmary." The order was brusque, with no hint that the guards gave a damn about his well-being.

Callen nodded to show he understood. He wasn't sure he could trust his voice yet after such a close brush with death. He used the towel to dab at the blood seeping from the wound. It wasn't deep or particularly painful but he knew the blade was almost certainly contaminated. He was running the very real risk of developing an infection.

He dressed quickly and walked out into the hallway. Mendez and the others had gone and one of the guards was waiting for him holding a pair of handcuffs.

"We don't give scum like you a chance to attack the medical staff," the guard told him, fastening the shackles around Callen's wrists.

"Why bother to stop them killing me?" Callen asked, slipping effortlessly back into his alias. "We're all treated like animals anyway."

"Get moving and keep your mouth shut." He was shoved along the hallway. "Pity they didn't do us a favor and keep you locked up in that military prison. Two years of solitary made you forget your manners. You should be grateful to us for saving your worthless hide."

Callen stopped, turning to confront the guard. Anger overruled his common sense. "Grateful? How about you explain how Mendez and his thugs were allowed to get so close to killing me? Who'd they pay off?"

The guard flushed. "Watch your mouth." He shoved Callen against the wall, pinning him there with an arm across his throat. "Next time we might not be so quick to interfere."

"You done?" Callen snarled. "I've got rights you know."

"Not in here you don't." The guard took a couple of steps back. "Move."

Callen would have cursed his lack of self-control except that the inmates who had witnessed the confrontation were looking at him with a new level of respect.

The infirmary smelt like every other hospital Callen had visited; a combination of bleach and bodily odors. It tickled his nose forcing him to hold back a sneeze which would have had painful consequences. He was taken into an examination room and ordered to sit on the bed. His guard stood by the door watching him unsympathetically. The walls were painted dull grey, matching his somber mood. In the absence of a window the harsh light was provided by fluorescent strips on the ceiling. All the surfaces were bare. There was nothing visible that could be used as a weapon.

The blood was slowly staining his white t-shirt and the cut had started to throb. Callen gritted his teeth and kept a surly look on his face. The doctor and a nurse arrived after a lengthy wait. The doctor, a grey-haired man in his sixties, looked at the visible evidence of the injury and sighed.

"Another one?" he asked the guard. "You're all doing a damn poor job of stopping them trying to kill each other. I told the warden that the other day. There must be less violent ways to reduce the prison population. This was supposed to be an easy job so that I could wind down to retirement. Instead it's like running an ER." He put on a pair of latex gloves. "Unlock his cuffs. I can't examine him while he's chained like that."

"He's dangerous," the guard protested.

"They're all dangerous, Ferguson, but not one of them has ever tried to hurt me or any of my staff. Credit them with some intelligence. Maybe they've worked out that we're here to help."

Callen grinned at the thinly veiled sarcasm and decided he liked the doctor. Ferguson glared at him and Callen held out his arms. After unlocking one cuff Ferguson attached it to the bed rail before returning to his post by the door.

"What happened?" The doctor eased the t-shirt up to expose Callen's stomach.

Callen hissed in pain as the material was pulled away from the dried blood around the cut. "Someone tried to gut me," he said.

The doctor took a sterile wipe from the nurse and began to clean away the blood. "Looks like you were lucky. It's not deep enough to need stitches." He gripped Callen's chin and tilted his head up. "You're going to have one hell of a bruise on your jaw. Anything else hurt?"

"I've got a head ache. They bounced my head off a wall."

The doctor shone a pen light into each eye. "Pupils are equal and reactive. It doesn't look like you've got a concussion. You know what signs to look out for?"

"Yeah."

"From the look of your knuckles they didn't have it all their own way. Are you responsible for my other recently arrived patient with the broken nose?"

"He got in the way of my fist." Callen rotated his right shoulder, wincing at the pain. "Can you take a look at my shoulder?" He clenched his teeth to avoid groaning while the doctor poked and prodded the joint.

"Strained ligaments. They'll heal by themselves. Avoid heavy lifting...and getting into any more fights. Do you need anything for the pain?"

"No."

"I don't believe you but I can't force you either. I'll give you a shot of antibiotics. The nurse will clean you up and bandage the cut. Keep it dry and come back to see me if it doesn't heal or if you develop a fever."

"Thanks, Doc." Callen knew that he had been lucky and that he would have to remain vigilant if he was going to make it through the next few weeks.

NCISLA

Deeks dropped the last file back into the box. "That was the most boring week of my life," he complained. "It's given me eye strain and a permanent headache. See why I hate paperwork?"

Kensi didn't bother to look up from the file she was reading. "There's one good thing to come out of it. All that practice has increased your reading age from five to six. Maybe now you'll be able to read something more intellectual than the comic strips in the paper."

"Ouch, that's harsh, Fern. At least I don't read those trashy gossip magazines."

"Neither do I."

"What about the all the back issues in your desk drawer? I suppose you're going to tell me that Hetty put them there."

Kensi blushed. "What were you doing going through my desk?"

"Looking for your stash of chocolate."

"Didn't anyone ever teach you about personal space?"

"We're partners. We shouldn't have secrets from each other."

"Just because we're partners doesn't mean I'm going to tell you anything about my personal life."

"You tell Sam and Callen. In fact I've heard you ask them for relationship advice which is kind of worrying since Sam's married and Callen's so gun-shy I don't think he's been on a date in forever."

"That's different. They're like my big brothers. You..." she hesitated. "I don't know what you are. Mostly you're just annoying."

"That hurts."

"The truth often does."

"I don't have to be annoying. I can be fun. All my former girlfriends would confirm that. I can give you a list," he offered helpfully. "It'll be a really long list."

"See that just proves my point. Annoying!"

"How is the research coming along," Hetty asked, her arrival forestalling a response from Deeks.

"We've been through every file and there's nothing to suggest that the contracts were anything other than legitimate." Kensi stood and stretched to work the kinks out of her muscles. "If Carter is doing something illegal he's doing a good job at covering his tracks."

"What about his bank accounts," Deeks asked.

"Mr. Beale has been working on those. There have been no suspicious transactions through the legitimate accounts. He's trying to find any hidden accounts. Miss Jones is reviewing his personal and corporate tax records for the last ten years."

"I thought our job was boring," Deeks said. "That would make me want to throw myself off a bridge."

"I'll help," Kensi said maliciously before returning her attention to their operations manager. "Any news from Sam or Callen?"

"Mr. Hanna is making slow progress. I have no information about Mr. Callen but we will rectify that when you visit him tomorrow. I trust you have done your homework?"

"Yes. Does Callen know what to expect?"

"He does. We worked out the scenario very carefully before he was incarcerated."

"When do I get out of here?" Deeks asked. "I work better undercover. Reading all this paper is a waste of my talents."

"I agree that it is time to make you operational. When Mr. Callen's released he will need a way to stay in contact without arousing suspicion. What better than for him to have a member of his family to rely on."

"Family? You mean like second cousin three times removed on his mother's side?"

"I was thinking of something closer. Half-brothers to be precise."

"You're joking. We don't look anything alike and some days he doesn't like me that much."

"He's not the only one," Kensi muttered.

"It is quite common for siblings to quarrel, Mr. Deeks. It should add to the authenticity."

"Do I have a job and an apartment? At least tell me that I'm doing something fun."

"Everything has been arranged for you. We've found you a job selling cars."

Deeks grinned. "Jaguars? Mercedes? I can just see myself going on test drives with bored rich socialites. Then maybe going back to their houses to 'negotiate' the sale price."

"Nothing quite so glamorous."

"Oh." The smile left his face. "Can I at least keep the commission?"

"Certainly not, Mr. Deeks. We will be using that to off-set against the cost of the operation."

NCISLA

Callen had been sent back to work after being patched up by the nurse. He'd taken things as easy as he could, passing up on the opportunity to eat the unappetizing slop masquerading as beef stew. He didn't see Frank Mitchell until he was in the yard. There was no sign of Mendez or the other men who had attacked him. He leaned wearily against the wall, wishing that the day was over, and didn't acknowledge Mitchell when the older man strolled over to join him.

"I hear you had another run in with Mendez."

"Yeah."

"You won't have to worry about him again. He's doing twenty-eight days in solitary."

Callen closed his eyes briefly. "That just means there's one piece of shit off my list. I bet there's plenty more who'll try something."

"Not while you're under my protection."

Callen straightened up and gave his cell mate a hostile stare. "You don't call the shots in here and even if you did I don't need your protection."

"Don't underestimate me."

"If you were that important you could have kept Mendez away..." Callen stopped, a thought occurring to him. "You son of a bitch. Mendez was working for you!"

"That's right."

"He tried to kill me. What were you trying to prove?"

"Think of it like a job interview."

"I don't need a job," Callen said fiercely. "I've got a job and a woman waiting for me when I get out and I don't need a bastard like you setting me up."

"You need to learn to control your temper," Mitchell said placidly. "It'll get you into trouble. Whatever you've got lined up won't be anywhere near as good as the employment I can arrange for you. I've checked you out and I'm impressed. You had a sweet little scam going on and you weren't afraid to use underhanded tactics to keep it secret."

"I don't know what you've heard, but that's in the past. I promised Maddie I'd go straight once I'd done my time and I'm going to keep that promise."

"You're wasting your potential. I can guarantee an income, off the books, of over a hundred grand a year."

Callen licked his lips and appeared to consider the offer. Finally he shook his head. "I've made some bad mistakes in my life and I know that kind of money doesn't come without strings attached. Stay out of my business and we'll get along fine. Pull any more of that crap and I'll see to it that you're the one visiting the infirmary."

He walked away, grateful once again to the thorough research done by Hetty and the rest of the team. They'd been fairly sure that Mitchell was the 'big dog' thanks to his influence on the outside and they'd been proved right. The bait had been taken and the trap was ready to be sprung.

Tbc

Caroline

December, 2012


	4. Chapter 3

Thanks to my betas. Reviews welcome.

**A Dangerous Game**

**Chapter Three**

The large room used for visiting was crowded, noisy and stiflingly hot. All the windows were closed and nailed shut. Ceiling fans rotated ineffectually and the smell of sweat mingled with cheap perfume. Callen, battling a headache, a throbbing pain in his jaw and shoulder and the discomfort of the healing cut across his stomach, felt nauseous.

He sat at the table and waited. Kensi arrived late, making an entrance which drew the attention of most of the inmates and guards. Her red blouse clung to her body, accentuating her curves. A short black skirt emphasised the length of her legs. Her hair, loosely curled, framed a naturally beautiful face. Although Callen had no romantic interest in her, he didn't have to feign his admiration. She looked spectacular.

She wove her way around the tables ignoring the lecherous glances from the men and venomous glares from the female visitors. She looked nervous, her gaze darting around without once making eye contact with Callen. He stood up as she approached. They were allowed brief physical contact twice, once on arrival and once at the end of visiting time. For a loving couple those seconds would be as precious as gold.

Kensi walked stiffly into his arms, turning her head away when he tried to kiss her. His lips brushed against her cheek instead of making contact with her mouth. "You look awful," she whispered.

"I'm fine." He let her go, a puzzled frown on his face.

She sat down and crossed one leg over the other. "Can't you keep out of trouble, Nick?" she asked. "Look at you. Who started the fight this time? You?"

"Give me a break, Maddie. I haven't seen you in a month and that's all you can say?"

"I've warned you about your temper. You've only got a few weeks left. Can't you just behave yourself for once?"

"I thought you'd be happy now that my sentence is almost done." Callen raised his voice just enough to attract the attention of the men closest to him. "It's been two fucking years. All I want is to get out of here, take that job with Billy and finally have a normal life."

Kensi licked her lips and stared at her hands which were lying in her lap. "I want to believe that," she said.

"I told you. This time will be different."

"Yeah, I've heard that before. I stood by you when you enlisted. I waited for news every time you were deployed. I was proud of you until I found out you'd been stealing from the Navy and selling the guns. Do you know how that made me feel? All the other wives and girlfriends started to treat me like shit. They thought I knew what you were doing."

"I did it for us. We needed the money."

"No, you needed the money. What was it for, Nick? Drugs? Gambling? I should have listened to my family when they told me you were bad news. For the last two years I've tried to convince myself that you would change when they let you out but I don't think you can."

"You came all the way out here to say that?" Callen asked, incredulously. "Haven't we been through this enough? You said you'd stand by me. I turned down a good job offer because of the promise I made to you."

Kensi looked up, a tear trickling from the corner of one eye. "I came because I wanted to tell you myself," she said. "I owe you that much."

"Tell me what?" Callen's voice had risen in volume and he leaned forward threateningly, his eyes darkening with emotion.

One of the guards left his place by the wall. "Settle down, Edwards or you'll be going back to your cell," he warned.

Callen sat back, his cold stare never leaving Kensi's face. She flushed under the close scrutiny and squirmed uneasily on the hard chair. Finally he shook his head in disbelief. "You cheated on me? Is that what you came to tell me? You two-timing bitch. Who is it?"

Her tears were flowing freely. "He was there all the times you left me. He took care of me and stopped me going crazy when the loneliness became too much."

"Who?" he demanded.

"Billy," she whispered.

"You've been screwing my best friend?"

The unrestrained fury in his voice caused her to flinch. "I'm sorry."

The guard dropped a hand onto his shoulder. "That's enough. Time to go."

"I'm not done."

"Yes, you are." The guard tightened his grip to keep him pinned to the chair. "Miss, I suggest you leave before things turn ugly."

Kensi stood up and hesitated. "I'm sorry," she said again.

"You will be, bitch," he snarled.

A second guard came over, a hand resting on his baton. "Get up."

Callen did as he was told, watching Kensi backing away from him. He stayed where he was until she had turned and hurried from the room. "Fucking bitch," he yelled after her.

A firm grip on his arm got him moving. As he was passing the table where Mitchell sat, he stopped. "I'm in. Whatever the job is, I'm in." He allowed the guards to hustle him from the room.

NCISLA

Deeks was waiting for Kensi when she left the prison. He looked at her in concern. Her eyes were puffy and red and she was visibly upset.

"How'd it go?" he asked.

She didn't say anything for a minute and Deeks gave her the time to ease herself out of character. He knew from his own experience how much effort went into perfecting a persona particularly when violent emotions were involved.

"He's taken a beating," she said with a catch in her voice. "He said he's fine but I could tell he was hurting."

"Guards or inmates?"

She shook her head. "I don't know."

"Does Hetty need to pull him out?"

"No. He didn't say anything to make me think that was necessary." She closed her eyes, replaying the conversation in her mind. "He said he'd been offered a good job and that he'd turned it down. It must have been Mitchell otherwise he wouldn't have mentioned it."

"It was tough today?"

"Yeah." She took a tissue out of her bag and peered into the mirror in the sun visor. "He's good," she said, dabbing at her eyes. "He scared the shit out of me and I knew he was only acting."

Deeks started the car. "I'll take you back to Ops so that you can report to Hetty. She's worried about him even if she won't come right out and say it. Then tonight we're going to order takeout and watch some trashy movie. You look like you could use some down time."

Kensi turned to him. "How does Callen do it? He doesn't get to walk away. He's going to have to stay in character for weeks."

"You've known him longer than I have but I think it's who he is. There's never been a time in his life when he hasn't had to pretend to be someone else, even when he was a child. He's one of the best I've ever seen and he'll pull this off. Once he's released I'll be there to watch out for him." He smiled at her reassuringly. "There's no way I'm going to let anything bad happen because you can bet if I do Sam'll take it out of my hide."

NCISLA

"You shouldn't be here, Mr. Hanna." Hetty gave her Senior Agent a stern look which he returned steadily. She hid a smile. "Since you are, would you like a cup of tea? This is a special blend reputed to be good for calming the nerves." She handed the delicate cup and saucer to Sam.

"There's nothing wrong with my nerves."

Hetty took a sip of tea, sensing Sam's defensiveness and well aware of the reason for his visit. "I'm delighted to hear that. Perhaps you would like to explain what has caused you to break protocol and jeopardize the operation."

"I have information."

"Which you could have imparted just as effectively by phone."

"No-one suspects that I'm an NCIS agent and I wouldn't have come here if I was being followed."

"That sounds like an excuse."

Sam sighed and gave up trying to justify his decision. "I'm worried about G."

"Yes, I can see that. Let me put your mind at rest. Miss Blye visited him today. He has been subjected to an assault, which was not entirely unexpected." She held up her hand to stop Sam interrupting. "His injuries are not severe and he appears to have made some progress with Frank Mitchell."

"He's only been there two days and he has another two weeks to go. What guarantee is there he won't be attacked again with more serious consequences? You know that he'll put the mission before his own safety."

"I called the warden and he will make sure that Mr. Callen is within sight of one of the guards at all times." Hetty didn't feel that it would be prudent to tell Sam that his partner has almost been killed. "He has already convinced them that he is volatile and dangerous. In normal circumstances he would have been put in solitary but we can't risk separating him from Mitchell so soon. The guards will be instructed to keep a close eye on him in case his behaviour deteriorates further. Mr. Deeks will visit him in a few days. If it appears that he has accomplished his mission we will have him removed from the general prison population. Does that satisfy you?"

"You should have sent me instead of him. He's reckless and very good at pissing people off."

"He's an excellent agent who has survived being placed in dangerous situations for over twenty years."

"That's because he's always had someone watching out for him."

"I understand your concern, Mr. Hanna and have taken all possible steps to protect him. I've lost enough agents."

Sam heard the note of sorrow in her voice. "I'm sorry, Hetty. It's just that he doesn't seem to think anyone would miss him if he died."

"You underestimate him. His years in the foster care system forced him to hide his emotions but don't ever make the mistake of thinking that he doesn't know how much he means to all of us."

"I hope you're right."

"I'm always right." She smiled and saw a reduction in the tension in Sam's shoulders. "Now that we have disposed of that issue I assume you have something useful to tell me."

Sam tried to suppress his lingering anxiety by concentrating on his report. "We've been looking in the wrong place."

"Go on."

"We suspected Commander Young of interfering with the tender process. It was a natural assumption as he makes the recommendations but he's never in the office. He relies on one of the civilian analysts, Jack Tillman, to review each bid as it arrives. Tillman's worked there for over fifteen years without getting much recognition for his efforts. He resents answering to a boss who has less experience than him."

"You think he might be on Carter's payroll?"

"It's worth checking out. I'll try to download information from his office computer. Eric and Nell can look into his personal life. He isn't married and he's almost sixty-five. Maybe he's looking for someone to fund his retirement. No-one seems to be particularly close to him and he doesn't encourage friendships. He's a real loner. I did find out one thing, though. When a company bids on a contract he reviews the package immediately it arrives to make sure that it meets all the criteria. That means he has access to the amount of the bid. For the last three contracts awarded Carter International has sent its bid in last, usually with only minutes to go before the deadline."

"So Mr. Tillman could be selling the figures proposed by the other companies, allowing Carter to undercut them?"

"It would explain a lot and isn't as risky as having to find excuses to disqualify the other bidders."

"Indeed it isn't." Hetty stood up. "You should leave and I hope I don't have to remind you that I won't tolerate any further displays of disobedience. We will look after your partner for you"

"I understand."

"Good night, Mr. Hanna. Keep us informed of your progress."

Tbc

Caroline

December 2012


	5. Chapter 4

I hope everyone is enjoying the holiday season. Thanks to my betas and to everyone who is reading. Reviews welcome.

**A Dangerous Game**

**Chapter Four**

It was during his evening shift in the kitchen that Callen noticed how closely the guards were watching him. It was scant comfort given that they were almost as much a threat to him as the other inmates. Although he detected Hetty's hand in this increased surveillance she wouldn't have taken the chance on betraying his true identity. He had undoubtedly been labeled a troublemaker. They would be waiting for his next outburst and an opportunity to impose their authority.

He was too tired and sore to give them an excuse that evening. His fellow prisoners continued to watch him warily. Word of his argument with Kensi would have spread quickly, conversation fodder for men living on the knife-edge of violence who had no safe outlet for their turbulent emotions. Callen felt physically and mentally drained and had a nagging feeling that not all of Kensi's tears had been acting. He had never let her see the truly dark side of his personality before. He kept it well hidden; only allowing it to emerge in times of great need. At his core he wasn't so different from many of the other men imprisoned with him. He was sure that Hetty knew what he was capable of and that it was his ability to restrain that violence that made him such an effective Agent.

Once he finished work he forced down a bowl of spaghetti and returned to his cell. Mitchell was already there, playing a game of solitaire on the top bunk. Callen hid his exhaustion behind a mask of studied indifference. He stripped off his t-shirt to check the bandages around his torso. Although they were stained with sweat there was no sign of renewed bleeding. He took off his shoes and lay down.

"Rumour says that your woman cheated on you," Mitchell said.

Callen closed his eyes, saying nothing.

"She's a real looker," Mitchell continued.

"She won't be when I'm done with her."

"I've got people who can take care of her for you," Mitchell offered.

"I clean up my own messes," Callen said.

"Yeah. I'd do the same in your place."

Callen systematically relaxed his tired muscles, wanting nothing more than to sleep. The cut on his stomach itched incessantly. He resisted the urge to scratch at it.

"You won't regret accepting my offer. One day you'll realize that the bitch did you a favor."

"The only favor she did was reminding me not to trust anyone."

"You can trust me."

"I'm giving you a chance to prove that. If I don't like what I find I'll walk."

"You don't know who you'll be working for. Aren't you curious?"

"I figure you'll tell me when you're ready," Callen replied in a tone of detached disinterest, although his heart rate increased as he waited for the trap to snap shut.

"Brandon Carter."

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?"

"It should. Former Marine Captain and war hero."

Callen gave up trying to sleep. "I remember him now," he said thoughtfully. "He was before my time but I've heard talk about what he did. Doesn't he run his own company now?"

"Yes."

"What would he want with someone like me? I'm not cut out for office work."

"He's a powerful man and that attracts enemies, people who'd do anything to bring him down. I ran his security division before I was arrested."

"Why'd you still care about him? Looks like he's left you to rot."

"He's family and you don't need to worry about me. I'll be out of here soon enough."

That caught Callen's attention. "How?"

"You don't need to know that." There was a hint of warning in Mitchell's voice. "I'm always on the lookout for likely recruits and I'd say you've got the potential to rise fast in the organization."

"Whatever it takes." Callen's thoughts were churning. They hadn't factored in the possibility of Mitchell being back on the street. "It's not like I'll have any distractions once I've dealt with Maddie."

"What about the guy she's sleeping with?"

"I haven't decided yet."

"You're not thinking of letting him walk away," Mitchell asked in surprise.

"He won't be walking anywhere. The only question is whether he'll still be alive."

Mitchell gave a hard laugh. "Guess he should have kept his pants done up."

Callen allowed the conversation to die, hoping Mitchell would take the hint and shut up. He'd achieved more than he'd dared to hope for but didn't think for a second that he'd earned Mitchell's trust. He would be watched and tested and if he didn't perform as expected he'd get a bullet to the head. His greatest challenges still lay ahead.

"Do you need someplace to live?"

Callen sighed. The headache that had plagued him all day had intensified and the light in the cell was hurting his eyes. "I've got that covered. I have a brother – half-brother. He's a useless piece of shit but he's got an apartment. I'll crash there until I find a place of my own."

The lights went out, much to his relief. He turned on his uninjured side and worried about the next stage of the operation. He wasn't used to working in partnership with Deeks and that introduced an element of risk to the equation.

NCISLA

Deeks hated prisons. He was unarmed and surrounded by men who would kill him if they found out he was an undercover cop. He wasn't much happier with his alias as Brian Edwards. His two room apartment smelled mouldy and he was pretty sure that there was an infestation of cockroaches behind the kitchen cabinets.

His job was no better. The cars he was expected to sell were all pieces of crap, barely held together by rust. His boss was a drunken lout who made most of his money fencing stolen auto parts to every criminal within a ten-mile radius. Deeks had kept a note of the people passing through the car lot with the intent of giving the information to LAPD once this operation was over. He hadn't seen a decent female customer in more than a week although he'd had plenty of propositions from the tramps and hookers who were the only ones likely to buy the piles of junk he was selling. He'd fended off their advances with a smile that was becoming very difficult to sustain.

At least he wasn't locked up like Callen had been for the past ten days. They'd had no contact with the Senior Agent since Kensi's visit a week ago. Hopefully that was good news. If anything bad had happened Hetty would have intervened. His instructions were to provoke an incident that would get Callen committed to solitary confinement if he saw any evidence of further injury. Hetty had made it perfectly clear that the operation was not worth the life of one of her agents. If necessary he was to get Callen out of harm's way regardless of Callen's own views on the subject.

Deeks stood in the doorway and looked around the room, hoping that there was no-one in here who could identify him. Eric and Nell had done a thorough search and hadn't come up with anyone that he recognized, but it was still a risk. He finally spotted Callen sitting at a table near the back of the room with two guards standing close by.

He studied his team leader during his walk across the room and could see what had frightened Kensi. Callen's body language screamed bloody minded arrogance. It was an open challenge from a man who knew he could take care of anyone stupid enough to cross him. His mouth was set in a hard line and there was no warmth in his eyes. When he got closer Deeks saw the healing bruise on Callen's jaw but no evidence of any new injuries. It looked like Callen had everything firmly in hand.

Deeks reached the table and sat down. "Hey, Bro."

Callen's chilly gaze didn't waver. "You got my message?"

"Yeah. I can give you a place to stay and get you a set of wheels. Just don't overstay your welcome." He looked across and saw that Callen's right wrist was shackled to the arm of the chair. "What's with the cuffs?"

Callen shrugged. "They don't like my attitude toward authority."

"You never change, do you? Still as much of a bastard as you've always been."

"You've no idea." Callen directed a challenging stare toward one of the guards, the side of his mouth curling in contempt.

Deeks decided it was time to intervene before the guard responded. "I saw Maddie."

Callen's gaze swung back to him, dark, deadly and unsettling. "How is she?"

"Upset." He thought for a minute. "Terrified."

"Good. What about Billy?"

"He's shit scared. I heard he was trying to find a way to leave town before you get out."

That provoked an unpleasant smile. "Won't do him any good." Callen looked around before leaning across the desk and lowering his voice. "You got everything arranged?"

'Everything' was a burn phone, state of the art surveillance equipment and an unregistered gun. "It's all ready. Have you had any more trouble in here?"

"No. Since I signed on with Mitchell and his boys it's been a piece of cake."

"Alright. Don't do anything stupid for the next few days. I'll be waiting outside when they release you on Monday. Just remember that I'm only doing this as a favor to Dad. I don't know what you've got yourself mixed up in and I'm not going to ask. You can stay for a couple of weeks and then you're on your own."

"Don't worry. After two weeks I won't need your help."

NCISLA

Deeks drove for a couple of miles until he found an empty patch of wasteland well away from any buildings. Carter International had a long reach and they had all been warned to be careful of being compromised. He parked, left the engine running and called Hetty.

"Any problems, Mr. Deeks?"

"No. Callen's fine and it all seems to be going according to plan."

"Do I detect a note of anxiety in your voice?"

"He's...different."

"That's hardly surprising. Nick Edwards is a dangerous man."

"It's more than that." Deeks was floundering, unsure how to explain his unease.

"Miss Blye said something similar. Frank Mitchell was not going to be interested in a man who was less than his equal. Mr. Callen had to make an impression quickly. He had to appear to be a man with no moral compass; someone who had just been betrayed by the very people he trusted."

"I'm worried about him, Hetty. He's so deep under cover that I'm afraid of what he might do."

"Then it will be your responsibility to make sure that he has an anchor to bring him back."

Deeks felt a flutter of panic. "That's Sam's job."

"Not this time. Have faith in your abilities, Mr. Deeks. I did not choose you to join this team without a great deal of thought. Watch him, rein him in when necessary...and take the opportunity to learn from him. He is one of the best you will ever have the privilege of working with."

The call ended, leaving Deeks feeling more unsettled than ever.

NCISLA

The sky was filled with rain clouds when Deeks parked his ancient Chevy Camaro outside the prison on the day Callen was scheduled to be released. There were more rust spots than silver paint on the bodywork of the car. The engine spluttered every time he turned the key in the ignition and it regularly cut out when he was idling at traffic signals. Sometimes undercover work sucked.

He had to wait for over an hour, his gut churning, before the main gate opened and Callen walked out. Callen stopped for a minute to look around and take several deep breaths of free air. Deeks got out and stood by the open door, waiting. His team leader looked at the car and sneered.

"Going up in the world?" he asked.

"I could have let you catch a bus," Deeks replied sourly.

"It might have been safer." Callen opened the passenger door, leaned in and threw his backpack onto the rear seat. "I need a drink."

Deeks got in and started the car, wincing at the noise. The gears creaked alarmingly and there was a metallic squeal from the rear brakes when he reversed out of the parking spot.

"Gun?" Callen asked.

"Glove box." Deeks turned onto the access road leading away from the prison.

Callen retrieved the gun, ejecting the clip and checking that it was fully loaded. The clip clicked back into place and Callen tucked the gun in the waistband of his jeans. He reached for the phone.

"I've programmed in my number," Deeks told him.

Once they were on the highway, Callen relaxed, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. "It's good to be out."

"How've you been?" Deeks sensed his team leader's hesitation to break his cover, but needed to reassure himself that Callen hadn't buried his own personality too far out of reach. "Eric swept the car to make sure there are no bugs and the noise from the engine makes sure no-one can listen in remotely."

"It was tough," Callen admitted after a moment of silence. "Fortunately Mitchell bought my cover story. I've got a meeting with the head of security at Carter International tomorrow. The job should give me access to every level of the organization. How's Sam getting on?"

Deeks felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. "He found the leak inside the procurement department although we still haven't been able to find hard evidence to show that Carter is dishonest. Eric and Nell found accounts in Switzerland which have never been declared to the Revenue. The problem is the security has made it impossible for Eric to access the information." Deeks smiled. "It's driving him crazy."

Callen returned the smile. "I bet it is. It must be one hell of a security system if it's keeping Eric out. He doesn't break a sweat hacking into the NSA database or into any of the other Agencies."

Deeks checked his rear view mirror. "I think we've picked up a tail." The dark blue sedan had been following them at a consistent distance for several miles.

Callen opened his window and adjusted the wing mirror. "Looks like Mitchell told them to keep an eye on his investment. Bring me up to date and make it quick."

"We've gathered a lot of circumstantial evidence but you don't go after someone as high-profile as Brandon Carter without something concrete. Kensi's been doing background checks on company employees. It turns out that the employee Mitchell almost killed wasn't the first to suffer a violent assault. She's identified a couple of people you might want to talk to. I'll give you the names later."

"How is Kensi? She was outstanding at the prison."

"She's good. Everyone's been on edge while you were inside. It'll be easier now that you're out."

"Hetty?"

"Trying to pretend she wasn't worried about you. You wouldn't have heard that Sam turned up one night to check that you hadn't got yourself killed."

"I bet Hetty made him suffer for that."

"Apparently she made him a cup of tea." Deeks sneaked a look at his team leader. "Nell was still in Ops and told us all about it."

Callen shook his head in disbelief. "Sam seems to think I need a mother to watch out for me."

"Isn't that what partners do – watch out for each other?"

Callen gave Deeks a long appraising stare. "Yes, it is."

Deeks turned into the car park of a rundown bar. "I guess its show time," he said. "Hetty said to tell you to be careful."

Amusement, friendship and empathy had all disappeared from Callen's face. He was resolutely back in character. "I always am."

Tbc

Caroline

December, 2012


	6. Chapter 5

Thank to my betas and for the reviews and continued support for this story.

**A Dangerous Game**

**Chapter Five**

After two years in prison Nick Edwards had pitifully few possessions. A brown leather wallet contained one hundred dollars, a bank card and a driver's license. The cell phone was basic but sufficient for his needs. There were two keys, one to the apartment and one for an ancient Chevy which was parked outside the building. He fastened a cheap watch around his left wrist. The gun, a 9mm Smith & Wesson was the only thing of value. He'd spent a large part of the previous evening disassembling, cleaning and reassembling the weapon. It was fully loaded and he carried a spare magazine in the interior pocket of his leather jacket. The gun nestled comfortably at the small of his back. It felt good to be armed again.

He had made no concessions when deciding what to wear for his interview. The denim of his jeans was worn and faded. He had run an iron over his dark blue shirt to remove the worst of the creases. His jacket was in slightly better condition although his brown work boots were well-worn and scuffed at the toes. He gave the impression of being a man who didn't give a damn what he looked like or what the world thought of him.

To his surprise the car started on the first try. He eased into traffic and drove to the downtown financial district. Carter International occupied the top floors of a skyscraper on West Fifth Street. He entered the elevator with a half dozen expensively dressed men and women who all edged away from him before trying to pretend that he didn't exist. He smirked at them just for the fun of watching their reaction.

When the doors opened he stepped into a reception area. An enormous window allowed plenty of natural light to enter. Large abstract paintings provided splashes of color on white walls. He was willing to bet that each one was worth more than his annual salary. It was designed to impress; restrained, tasteful and unashamedly flaunting Carter's wealth. He walked toward the desk where two attractive young women, one blonde and one brunette, were talking into their headsets. He caught the eye of the brunette whose professional smile slipped momentarily. He grinned when he saw the movement of her hand. She was unsettled enough to have used the panic button. A door to the right of the desk opened and his grin widened. The smartly dressed man who walked out was clearly ex-military and ready for trouble.

"I think you're in the wrong place," the man said, unbuttoning his jacket to show the gun in his shoulder holster.

Callen remained perfectly relaxed and not in the least bit intimidated. "I have an appointment with Don Brooks. My name's Nick Edwards."

"Wait there while I check with Mr. Brooks."

"Okay, but don't keep me waiting too long."

The man frowned in annoyance and went to speak to the blonde receptionist. She spoke quietly into her head set and then gave the security guard a slight nod.

"This way." The man pointed toward an opaque glass door which he opened using his security pass. Once out of sight of the receptionists he put out a hand to stop Callen. "Are you carrying?"

"Yes."

"Arms out."

Callen sighed and did as instructed. His gun and the lethally sharp flick knife he was carrying in his back pocket were confiscated before he was allowed to continue along the hallway. He was ushered into a small conference room and left alone. There was a pot of coffee sitting on a side table. He poured a cup and walked to the window to look at the downtown skyline. The coffee was strong and hot, providing a welcome jolt of caffeine.

He turned at the sound of the door opening. The man who entered was in his fifties with grey hair. His muscular build was just starting to turn to fat, although the cut of his jacket did a good job of disguising it. He looked hard and dangerous and wasn't someone who should be underestimated. Brown eyes studied Callen intently before the bland expression relaxed into one that was more welcoming.

"I'm Don Brooks, interim head of security." He laid Callen's gun and knife on the conference table and offered his hand.

"Nick Edwards." Callen noted the British accent and wondered which branch of the military Brooks came from. He shook Don's hand and looked meaningfully at the weapons.

"Go ahead," Brooks said.

Callen returned his gun to its usual place and slipped the knife into his pocket. A slight residue on the handle confirmed his suspicions; they had taken his fingerprints.

"I see you found the coffee. Sit down." Brooks settled into a chair. "You come highly recommended but we have to observe the formalities." He opened a file. "How long were you in the Marines?"

"Ten years before they locked me up."

"Where did you serve?"

"None of your business."

Brooks didn't seem offended by Callen's aggression. "Covert Ops?"

Callen kept his expression neutral and didn't answer.

"I see." Brooks closed the file and sat back. "We already have your complete history but your reticence is understandable. Let me give you a few facts and then maybe you'll feel more comfortable answering my questions. We know, for example, that you were part of the pilot program that led to the commissioning of the Marine Corps Special Operations Command. That means you're highly trained in all aspects of irregular warfare. What's your specialty?"

Callen licked his lips and hesitated before answering. "Special reconnaissance and linguistics."

"How many languages do you speak?"

"Fluently? Six. I can get by in three more."

"Why did you throw away your career?" Brooks asked abruptly.

Callen pointed at the file. "If you know so much about me then you know the answer to that."

"We know the official version. I want to hear yours."

"I was wounded during an operation and shipped back to the States. After I recovered they refused to send me back overseas and said my ability to function operationally had been compromised. I was kicked out of MARSOC and reassigned to Camp Pendleton as an instructor." Callen infused his words with bitterness.

"You resented the decision?"

"Yeah. Wouldn't you? I was fit for duty but no-one would listen to me. I decided to get out but wanted some payback first."

"How long were you dealing guns?"

"Nine months."

"How were you caught?"

"NCIS. The bastards set up a sting operation and I fell for it. The Tribunal wanted to give me five years but my JAG lawyer convinced them to commute part of the sentence because of my past service record. They still gave me a dishonorable discharge."

"Understandable, given the circumstances." Brooks sounded more sympathetic than censorious. "You have skills that we can use. We can offer you a good career here...if you're prepared to follow orders. Mr. Carter doesn't tolerate insubordination."

"I was trained to follow orders."

"Yet you broke every rule when you chose to sell weapons to street gangs."

Callen broke eye-contact and tried to look contrite. "I made a mistake. Two years in solitary teaches you not to make the same mistake again."

Brooks laughed. "If I believed for a minute that you'd turned into a law-abiding citizen we wouldn't be talking. When running an international corporation it isn't always possible to play by the rules. The trick is to have people willing to do the dirty work...and not getting caught. Mr. Carter pays very well for loyalty. I can offer you ten thousand a month as a contractor. It's up to you whether you declare it to the Revenue. The dress code is formal." He looked Callen up and down. "Do you have a suit?"

"What do you think?" Callen asked sarcastically. "I was inside for two years and before that I spent most of my time in uniform."

Brooks pulled out his wallet and counted ten one hundred dollar bills which he pushed across the table to Callen. "Dark suit and tie. White shirt."

Callen picked up the money. "When do I start?"

"You have a couple of loose ends to tie up first, Nick." Brooks opened the file again and pulled out a photograph which he turned to face Callen. "Starting here."

NCISLA

"You won't regret your decision, Stella," Deeks said, leading the way back into the office. He flinched when the woman's hand brushed against his ass. "We just need to fill out some paperwork and then you'll be on your way." He quickened his pace and took refuge behind the desk. With that between him and his customer she wouldn't be able to grope him again. The test drive had been a nightmare of wandering hands and sexually charged innuendo. He had come very close to blowing his cover.

Stella sat down and leaned forward so that he had a good view of her surgically enhanced cleavage. "I thought we could go for lunch," she purred. "My treat to thank you for all your help."

"Sorry," Deeks said hurriedly. "I have to work through lunch."

"Dinner?" she persisted.

The door to the office opened. Deeks looked up, grateful for the interruption then frowned when he saw who was standing there. "Nick? What are you doing here?"

Callen stepped inside, his expression unreadable. "We need to talk. There's a diner a few doors down. Meet me there."

"I'll be there in five."

Callen nodded and left as suddenly as he had arrived.

Stella pouted at Deeks. "You said you had to work."

"Change of plans." Deeks grabbed his jacket and walked out to the main sales floor. "Jimmy," he called to one of his co-workers. "Can you finish this sale for me? I'll split the commission."

He quickly made the introductions, ignoring Stella's frosty glare. On the short walk to the diner he couldn't suppress a feeling of unease. It hadn't been part of the plan for him and Callen to meet until evening and the unexpected arrival of his team leader was cause for concern.

The diner was doing good business. It wasn't anything fancy but Deeks had found, to his surprise, that the food was good. Callen sat in the booth closest to the kitchen door. He had a good view of the room and a quick escape route if necessary. Deeks smiled at the waitress who he had flirted with a few times, ordered coffee and slid into the booth.

"How was the interview?" Deeks asked.

"Good."

The waitress arrived with the coffee and they waited until she had gone. "I didn't expect to see you until later," Deeks said.

"I need some information about Maddie."

"What? Why?" The panic in Deeks' voice was real. He could see the barely leashed aggression in Callen's demeanour. "Leave her alone, Nick. If you go after her she'll identify you to the police and you'll end up back in jail."

"She won't identify me," Callen stated flatly.

The implication of that statement hit Deeks in the gut like a sledge-hammer. "You can't be serious. Stay away from her," he pleaded.

"There isn't a choice. I need her new address."

The message was clear. Callen had to stay well away from NCIS so he was being ordered to put together an operation without knowing how it was supposed to play out. Fear for Kensi's safety made his palms sweat. "When?"

"Tonight."

"That's not possible."

Callen leaned across the table, eyes narrowed. "Make it possible."

"I won't be a part of this. You only have yourself to blame for Maddie cheating on you."

"Listen to me you spineless little bastard. She's going to get what she deserves. Either you help or some of my new friends will be paying you a visit."

Deeks lifted his coffee mug and then set it down because his hands were shaking. "I could call the cops."

"You wouldn't live long enough to testify. Get me her address, Brian, and then forget this conversation ever happened."

"Please, don't hurt her." The appeal wasn't made to Nick Edwards. It was made to Callen because Deeks no longer recognized the man sitting opposite him. There was no pity in Callen's eyes, nothing to show that this was just an act. How far would he go to maintain his alias?

"Call me with the information by six." Callen stood up and threw twenty dollars on the table. "Don't let me down or you'll regret it for a very long time."

Tbc

Caroline

January 2013


	7. Chapter 6

**A Dangerous Game**

**Chapter Six**

After leaving the diner Callen went shopping with the money provided by Brooks. He purchased two dark suits and all the necessary accessories. Late in the afternoon he returned to Carter International as instructed. He still hadn't received confirmation from Deeks that the operation had been set up and concealed his concern behind a mask of indifference.

The truth was that the photograph had shocked him. It was a picture of Kensi and Deeks sitting in a car outside the prison. Kensi looked deeply upset and Deeks was clearly very concerned about her. Brooks had suggested that it showed Maddie had lied to him. She hadn't cheated on him with his best friend – she had cheated on him with his brother. He had watched Callen like a hawk while waiting for his response.

Callen had brushed off that explanation, spinning a tale about Maddie and Brian being like brother and sister. He had been with Maddie for more than ten years and Brian treated her as one of the family. It was only natural that he would have done his best to look after her during Nick's two-year prison sentence. He could only hope that he had been convincing. He was being tested to see how far he would go to impress his new employers and had already shown that he was willing to intimidate his younger brother to get what he needed.

He was in Brooks' office when his phone rang. "What have you got for me, Brian?" He grabbed a pen and a sheet of paper and wrote down the address Deeks gave him. "You're sure she'll be there tonight?" He listened for a minute and then hung up.

"You have a location?" Brooks asked.

"Yeah. I still think this is a bad idea. I'm the first person the cops will look for when they find her body." He had to make one last attempt to stop everything unraveling.

"That won't be a problem," Brooks said dismissively. "Get changed into a suit and do the rounds of the building with Cliff. He's waiting for you. Most people will have left by now and we do hourly patrols outside normal office hours. The security tapes will be time stamped to show that you were here when she died."

"Impressive."

"Cliff and Gunther will go with you as back-up."

"I can handle her on my own." Callen's heart began to pound. This operation was difficult enough without two highly trained thugs watching every move he made.

Brooks fixed him with a stony stare. "I thought we were clear about the need for you to follow orders. They go with you or our deal's off."

"Alright but they leave her to me."

"Agreed."

NCISLA

"Welcome back, Mr. Hanna," Hetty greeted her senior agent.

"I got here as soon as I could after Eric called me. What's happening?" Sam sat down.

"Mr. Callen has been frightening the children."

Sam scowled at her. "I warned you it was a bad idea to partner him with Deeks. I warned you and G and neither of you would listen to me. What's he done?"

"He is deeply undercover and has developed an increasingly psychotic personality. Mr. Deeks is concerned that he is no longer acting a part...that he has become Nick Edwards."

"He's been under for three weeks, most of that time in an environment where he couldn't afford to let his guard down. What did Deeks expect?"

"I haven't had the opportunity to ask him. He was rather agitated when he last made contact. Mr. Callen isn't our only problem, I'm afraid."

"I thought things were going well."

"There has been an unexpected development. Let's call it an initiation test. If he fails, the operation will be over. If they begin to suspect he's an agent his life will be in danger."

"What does he have to do?" Sam felt a chill running down his spine. Hetty never panicked but her rigid self-control couldn't hide her deep concern.

"Kill his former girlfriend." Hetty looked toward the bullpen where Kensi sat at her desk.

"Shit. No wonder Deeks was freaking out. That was never part of the plan. You have to pull G out. This operation is out of hand."

"That isn't an option unless there is an imminent threat to his well-being or that of any other member of the team."

"Putting out a hit on Kensi is an imminent threat."

"Not if we handle things properly. You will be there as her backup to stop anything going wrong. If you feel that you can't contain the situation you can abort the operation. I must stress, Mr. Hanna that this would only be as a last resort."

"We have a plan?" Sam fought to keep his voice level.

"Yes, although Mr. Callen is unaware of the details. We will have to trust him to follow Miss Blye's lead."

"What if Deeks is right and Callen's gone too deep?"

"It will be your responsibility to bring him home."

NCISLA

"How are you feeling?" Sam asked as he completed his inspection of the small house, committing the layout to memory. It had two bedrooms with an open living area kitchen, all on one level. When choosing the location they hadn't wanted to contend with stairs in case things went wrong and they had to shoot their way out.

Kensi tried to smile at his concern, but it was a feeble effort. "I'm fine, Sam."

"You know that Callen won't hurt you?"

"I know."

Sam stood to one side of the window overlooking the street. He could see anyone approaching the house without being visible from outside. The street lights illuminated the front yard giving a clear view. "A car's pulling up," he said. "Callen isn't alone."

"We knew that was a possibility. You need to get out of sight."

"If you need me just yell and remember there's a gun in the night stand."

Sam hid in the bathroom attached to the main bedroom. He could hear everything clearly through his comlink. The front door was kicked open. Kensi gave a breathless scream which was immediately stifled.

"I warned you I'd make you pay for cheating on me, Bitch."

Although Sam had no trouble recognizing his partner's voice, he was deeply unsettled by the tone. There was the sound of flesh hitting flesh and he had to stop himself from intervening. Kensi began to sob.

"I'm going to teach her a lesson," Callen said. "Stay here. I want some privacy."

"Mr. Brooks said…" One of his companions started to protest.

"I don't give a fuck what he said," Callen snarled. "You can see her when it's done."

Sam eased the bathroom door open and saw Callen pulling Kensi into the bedroom. He kicked the door shut and threw her on the bed. Kensi scrambled backwards, tears flowing freely down her face.

"Please, Nick, don't hurt me. I'm sorry…I'm sorry." Her voice rose hysterically.

Sam opened the door wider and found himself facing Callen's gun. For a long moment Sam stared into his partner's eyes, seeing a sick horror reflected there. He took hold of Callen's shoulders and shook his gently, feeling the younger man trembling under his hands.

Callen backed away and raised two fingers, pointing toward the door. Sam nodded and turned his attention to Kensi. Her left cheek was red and there was blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. Callen walked over to her and gently touched her face.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Do what you need to," she said.

Callen drew back his arm and hit her again. Sam knew it would sound worse than it was but it still made him flinch. The volume of her pleas increased, interspersed with hiccupping sobs.

"Shut up," Callen yelled before hitting her again.

She began to whimper and mumble incoherently.

Sam could see his partner's deep self-loathing at what he had to do. Kensi gave him a watery smile. Sam pulled Callen into the bathroom and closed the door. "Are you okay, G?"

"What have I done, Sam? There's all this hate inside me and I don't think I can control it."

"It'll be alright. Stop worrying about Kensi. She's been through worse and come out of it okay."

"Never at my hands." Callen looked like he was going to be sick.

"Keep it together, G. We have to make this convincing and we don't have much time. Do you have your knife?"

"Yes."

"Good. Give it to Kensi. She knows what to do. Then you need to use it to break the skin over her heart."

"What?"

"We can't fake a gunshot but we can fake a stab wound. To do that there needs to be blood on the knife or your friends will get suspicious."

"I can't, Sam. This wasn't supposed to happen."

"Trust me, G. I'll take care of everything else."

Callen swallowed and nodded. "There's something else, Sam. They showed me a photograph of Kensi and Deeks together. It was taken at the prison. I think they believed the story I told them, but you have to warn Deeks to be careful."

"I'll see to it."

When Callen returned to the bedroom Kensi was sitting on the bed. She gave him an encouraging smile. He pulled out his knife and handed it to her. She cut the material of her blouse to expose her bra. "I'm ready," she said, giving the knife back to him.

He placed the knife over her heart and then pulled back. His hands were shaking and he took a minute to use a breathing technique which helped to calm him. He kept his eyes locked on hers, comforted by her steady and encouraging gaze. He pushed the knife gently against her skin, stopping when a drop of blood welled up to stain the white lace of her bra and the tip of the knife. Sam opened a vial of blood and quickly used it to soak the area around the wound. When he brought out a syringe, Callen looked at him quizzically.

"The same stuff we used on Janvier," Sam whispered. "Hopefully your two playmates won't look too closely but this will make it look like she's dead. You know what to do, Kensi."

She gave a sharp cry at the same moment as Sam plunged the needle into her arm. She went completely limp and her breathing slowed to the point where it was almost imperceptible.

"Be careful," Sam said before retreating to the bathroom and closing the door so that only a small gap remained. He drew his gun and waited.

Callen opened the bedroom door and left it ajar so that the other two men could see Kensi's body. "It's done. Let's get out of here before someone sees us."

"You're a hard bastard," one of them said.

"You'd better remember that," Callen replied before walking out of range of Kensi's wire.

Sam waited for ten minutes to make sure they had gone before emerging. He checked Kensi's pulse and then dialed Hetty.

"It's done," he said.

"How is Miss Blye?"

"Still unconscious. She'll wake up soon and she'll have some bruises in the morning. Have you made the arrangements for her 'body' to be found?"

"Yes. Two police officers will be there in a couple of hours. We have to make this look real so we've also enlisted the aid of the coroner. Miss Blye will be removed by ambulance and taken to the morgue and we will make sure that the local media reports her death. We can only hope that it is enough to satisfy Mr. Callen's new employers."

"Tell Deeks to watch his back. They have a photograph of him and Kensi."

"Oh dear. It seems we might have underestimated them. How is Mr. Callen?"

"If we'd lost him he'd have enjoyed himself, just like Nick Edwards would have done. He's on the edge, Hetty. He's fighting it and so far he's winning. If he has to stay undercover too much longer that could change."

"Then we had better hope that we can crack this case quickly, Mr. Hanna."

NCISLA

After returning to Carter International to report the success of his mission Callen drove around aimlessly for hours. He wanted to call Sam or Hetty to find out if Kensi was alright but knew that it could jeopardize the operation. He found an all-night diner and ordered coffee. The smell of the greasy food turned his stomach. The television was on tuned to a news channel. He watched the report of a violent home invasion which had resulted in the brutal death of a young woman. The footage showed a shrouded body being carried to an ambulance. Even though he knew it was all a sham it still made him feel ill.

He hadn't been lying to Sam. When he'd kicked down the door and seen Kensi it was like a red tide of rage had overwhelmed him. Nick Edwards would have taken sadistic pleasure in her fear and would have done more than give her a quick death. He understood that at a primal level and that instinct had almost taken over. If it hadn't been for Sam's presence he wasn't sure how much control he would have retained.

He had been deep undercover many times before. He'd done things that horrified him but he'd always been able to lock them away once the operation was over. This time the lines were blurred. If he had the choice he would walk away now; let someone else prove Carter's innocence or guilt. He closed his eyes in despair.

"What kind of animal does that to an innocent woman?" the waitress asked, topping up his coffee.

Callen opened his eyes, staring at her uncomprehendingly.

She pointed to the television. "Tore her clothes off her. They say he probably raped her before he stabbed her. If it were up to me I'd castrate the bastard and then let him fry." She walked away.

Callen watched the screen, the words of the reporter flowing over him. He dropped some money on the table, walked out, found the nearest alley and vomited until his stomach was empty. Bathed in cold sweat he returned to his car and drove back to his apartment. He fumbled with the key, finally sliding it into the lock. It was dark, the lights from the street unable to penetrate the heavy drapes over the window. He closed the door and reached for the light switch. A heavy weight propelled him into the wall and a hand held him pitilessly in place. A voice close to his ear asked the question he had asked himself all night.

"What did you do, you fucking bastard?"

Tbc

Caroline

January 2013


	8. Chapter 7

**A Dangerous Game**

**Chapter Seven**

The pressure on his back eased and then disappeared. Callen stayed where he was, breathing heavily. When he finally turned and switched on the light he saw that Deeks had retreated to the armchair on the opposite side of the room. The younger man sat hunched forward staring at the carpet. Callen walked slowly to the sofa and sat down in silence.

"You hurt her," Deeks said without looking up.

"Yes."

"I couldn't have done that. I would never harm her."

"I know."

Deeks sat up and met Callen's gaze. Hair fell in disordered strands across his face. He irritably pushed it out of his eyes. "Is that it?" he challenged.

Callen hesitated, unwilling to break cover but not knowing how else to deal with his distraught colleague.

Deeks' eyes narrowed. "There aren't any bugs so don't bother trying to use that as an excuse to avoid the question."

"I did my job. I don't know what else you want me to say."

"Is that Nick Edwards talking?"

Callen almost recoiled at the venom in Deeks' voice. "Do you know what Nick Edwards would have done?" he asked bitterly. "He'd have done everything they speculated about on the news and more. Is that what you think I'm capable of?"

"I don't know…no. I thought…"

"That I'd gone too deep," Callen stated flatly. He decided that Deeks deserved the truth. "I came close."

"What stopped you?"

"You. Sam. Kensi. Hetty. All the people I work with who rely on me to know where to draw the line."

"Have you ever…?" Deeks stopped and shook his head. "I'm sorry."

Callen didn't respond. There were some things he would never discuss with anyone. "Have you spoken to her?"

"Yes."

"How is she?"

"She says she's fine."

"She was afraid of me," Callen admitted, "but she still did her job. She isn't fine and neither are you. That's what happens when you work with a partner." He fell silent, thinking through the implications of his night's work. "You're done here. It's time for Brian Edwards to disappear."

"I don't need you to treat me like some rookie who can't play with the big boys," Deeks snapped.

"I'm not. You and Kensi are among the best I've ever worked with and you know I don't throw out compliments lightly. You need to disappear because you're a target."

"The picture? Kensi told me about that. We were careless."

"Yeah. They're being very careful to isolate me and now they think they have a hold over me. If I don't do what they say they'll wreck my alibi and I'll end up back in prison. As far as they're concerned Maddie is dead and you're a loose end."

"You think they'll try to kill me?"

"I'm sure of it. Go back to the office and keep out of sight."

"I'm not leaving you without backup," Deeks protested.

"I've proved myself to them so they won't be so suspicious. From now on I'll be wired for audio and video. We don't have much time left before a decision is made on that big training contract. Hetty can run the operation. She'll make sure I'm never too far away from help."

"Can't we use the fact that you were ordered to kill someone to end it now?"

"It's not enough. I wish it was. All that does is get us the head of security and a couple of his boys. We can't prove the order came from Brandon Carter. It's the same as when Mitchell was arrested. The DA couldn't pin anything on Carter. If we move now we'll alert him to the investigation and risk never being able to prove he's dirty."

"Do you think he is?"

"It seems likely and I'm not going to let him slip through the net. Go home, Deeks."

"Hetty…"

"I'm your team leader and Hetty will accept my decision. Go home. Your partner needs you more than I do."

"Alright. What do you want me to tell Kensi?"

"Nothing. Once this is over I'll have to find a way to make things right with her."

Deeks nodded. "Will you be okay?"

"Nick Edwards might be a bastard but he's also a survivor. I'll be fine."

NCISLA

Callen was asleep on the sofa when the police battered down the door. Before he was fully awake he was grabbed, thrown face down on the ground and handcuffed.

"What the hell?" he said, staring blearily at the floor.

Two cops pulled him to his feet in front of a plain clothes officer. "Nicholas Edwards. You're under arrest on suspicion of murder."

"What? Who am I supposed to have killed?"

"Madeline Wright."

"Maddie's dead?" he asked incredulously. "When? What happened?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Edwards. You threatened her in front of witnesses and two days after you're released from prison she's murdered." He looked at Callen with loathing. "Read him his rights," he ordered one of the uniformed officers. "Then tear this place apart."

"Yeah, I threatened her." Callen strained uselessly against the hard grip on his arms. "The bitch cheated on me but I'd never have touched her."

"You can tell that to the jury."

"You got any evidence?" Callen asked. "What about a warrant. You can't just come charging in here. I have rights."

"Get him out of here," the Detective said.

Callen resisted the attempt to remove him from the room. "You don't have a damn thing, do you?" He sneered at the Detective. "What time did she die?"

"Why do you want to know? So that you can make up an alibi?"

"If she died last night I have an alibi. I was working security for Carter International. You've heard of them, right? I was there from six last night until six this morning. The whole building's covered with cameras. I bet if you get a warrant you'll find plenty of evidence to confirm that."

"We'll check it out but until we do you're going to stay in custody."

"Fine," Callen said, surreptitiously testing the security of the handcuffs. "Then, when you have to let me go, I'll get my lawyer to file a claim for false imprisonment and harassment."

The homicide detective stepped closer. "You're garbage, Edwards, and I don't take threats well."

Callen gave him an insolent smile. "It's not a threat, Detective. It's a promise."

NCISLA

Hetty arrived at the office early. She wanted to be ready when Sam and Kensi arrived, suspecting that neither of them would be coping very well. When Sam walked in he acknowledged her briefly and headed to the gym. His normal outlet for strong emotion was to hit something – hard and repetitively. Hetty let him go. He would seek her out when he was ready to talk.

Her more immediate concern was for Kensi. The young agent had been through an ordeal and would have to cope without the support of her partner. She spared a fleeting thought for Deeks who had vociferously opposed the plan. His concern demonstrated the strong bond between him and Kensi. She was beginning to wonder if that bond might prove problematic. Operatives had to put themselves in the line of fire and Deeks becoming overprotective was counterproductive. She filed the issue away for further consideration.

It was close to ten before Kensi walked in wearing dark glasses. Hetty intercepted her before she could reach her desk.

"How are you feeling, dear?" She asked, studying the swelling and bruising marring Kensi's face.

"I'm fine, Hetty. They checked me out in the ambulance."

"Come and sit down." Hetty shepherded Kensi into her office. "Would you like some tea?"

Kensi smiled faintly. "No, thank you."

"It's never easy seeing a colleague…a friend…acting out of character," she said. "I remember when I was a very new agent I had to shoot one of my team. It wasn't real of course, but when I saw him fall from that bridge in Budapest and disappear under the water, it felt real. He could have drowned, or been thrown against rocks and injured or killed. It was a calculated risk." She looked expectantly at Kensi.

"I don't blame Callen for what he did."

"No, I don't think you do." Hetty frowned. "But you don't understand how he could do it."

Kensi licked her lips and winced when her tongue brushed over a healing cut. "It was hard for him too. I could see that but…" She hesitated. "I think it would have been worse if Sam hadn't been there. At the beginning Callen didn't seem to be in control."

"That is extremely worrying. Do you believe we should terminate the operation?"

"You should ask Sam. Callen's been through so much to get as far as he has. I don't think I'm qualified to make that decision."

"I'm asking for your opinion, Miss Blye. Mr. Callen isn't the only one who has suffered for this mission."

Kensi met her gaze. "If it was up to me I'd pull him out."

"I see. Then I think I should talk to Mr. Hanna."

She looked over at the bull pen. Sam had finished his workout shortly before Kensi arrived and he was sitting at his desk. As she watched Sam stood up and stared at the entrance to the building. She followed his line of sight, her eyes widening when she saw Deeks.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Sam asked loudly.

Kensi looked over her shoulder. "Deeks? He's supposed to be watching out for Callen."

"I think we should go and rescue him from Mr. Hanna." Hetty walked quickly toward the two men.

"Where's Callen? Why aren't you keeping an eye on him?" Sam was right in Deeks' face, oozing aggression.

"That's a fair question, Mr. Deeks, even if it could have been asked with a little less aggression." She stared severely at Sam who was showing no sign of backing down.

Deeks stepped back, his color high. "He sent me away. Told me I was a target. He gave me an order, Hetty."

"You didn't have to listen to him," Sam said heatedly. "Callen doesn't always think things through."

"That's hardly a fair assessment of your partner," Hetty said. "I'm sure he gave this a great deal of consideration, although I disagree with his conclusion."

"He said he'd be wired. We can keep track of him that way," Deeks said almost apologetically.

Hetty took a deep breath. "He was arrested this morning."

"Where are they holding him?" Sam demanded. "I'm going to get him out before this goes any further."

"It's too late, Sam. His alibi held up and he was released an hour ago. A car was waiting for him and he was driven to Carter International. He isn't wearing a wire and we have no way to contact him."

"I knew it. He's gone lone wolf on us again!" Sam's anger was mixed with a deep-seated fear for his partner.

"I suspect the events of last night convinced him that it would be safer if he worked alone."

"It's not safer for him," Sam said furiously.

"No, it isn't and there isn't a damn thing we can do about it."

Tbc

Caroline

January, 2013.


	9. Chapter 8

I am grateful for the reviews and hope this isn't becoming boring. Now that the scene has been set things will progress quickly.

**A Dangerous Game**

**Chapter Eight**

Callen hadn't anticipated being summoned to Carter International immediately after his release from police custody. However, Gunther had been waiting for him with a car and had ignored his protests. He had planned to catch a few hours' sleep, freshen up and activate the audio and video equipment before reporting for work. Instead he was grubby, tired, unarmed and on his way to the last place he wanted to be. He could imagine the worry he was causing his team while having no way to ease their concern. He relaxed as best he could in the back seat of the black sedan while mentally preparing himself for the next phase of the operation.

After sending Deeks away the previous night he had showered, changed and disposed of the clothes he had worn at the time of the 'murder'. He had been careful to remove any possible DNA evidence. Although most of those who had attended the scene the previous night were with NCIS it had been necessary to brief some senior LAPD officers. His arrest that morning had been real with only the detective in charge knowing his true identity. They had made it as authentic as possible.

His gun and the NCIS surveillance equipment were safely stowed in a bus station locker. It would have been awkward to explain away an unregistered weapon and equipment which was several generations better than anything available to the police.

The homicide detective had given a masterful performance, questioning him for two hours without a break and looking suitably disgusted when ordered to let him go. The rigors of the interrogation had forced Callen to delve deeper and deeper into Nick Edwards' personality and he didn't like what he found there.

Gunther drove into the underground garage and pulled into a reserved parking space. "This way," he ordered.

Callen followed him to an elevator. Gunther used his security pass and pressed the button for the top floor. Callen started to have a bad feeling about where they were going. The elevator opened directly on to a private reception area. The woman sitting at the desk was middle-aged, her hair swept up into a severe bun which did nothing to improve her sour look. Her air of formidable efficiency reminded Callen of Hetty, although he couldn't imagine this woman ever cutting loose the way Hetty did. She looked at Callen over the top of her black rimmed glasses and sniffed to show her disapproval. He stared back at her with an insolent smile and was pleased to see her mouth tighten even further. She looked like she was sucking on a sour lemon and that thought made his smile broader.

"You can go in," she said.

From the layout of the building Callen knew that he was going into a corner office. He walked forward and knocked on the door before entering. It was a very large office, expensively furnished and obsessively tidy but it wasn't the room itself that caught his attention; it was the two men inhabiting it. He recognized Brandon Carter from the surveillance photographs. The owner of the company sat at ease behind his desk looking every inch a respectable businessman. It was the sight of the man standing next to him that caused Callen to hesitate momentarily. Frank Mitchell, who he had last seen in a maximum security cell, greeted him with a predatory smile.

"Nick. Glad to see you didn't have to spend too long with the police this morning. I'd like to introduce you to your new employer, Brandon Carter."

"Pleased to meet you." Callen paused before adding, "Sir."

"Sit down, Nick." Carter pointed to the visitor's chair. "I hear you had a personal loss. My condolences."

Callen didn't know what to make of that comment. He'd assumed that Carter knew exactly what he'd been ordered to do. He was either facing a very clever man or one who knew nothing about what was happening. He opted to conclude that Carter was devious, smart and that he wouldn't say anything incriminating. "Thank you."

"Mitch has told me all about you. It's been a long time since I've seen him so impressed."

False modesty wasn't something that Callen or Nick Edwards cultivated. He gave a half-smile and waited.

"I understand you have a problem with the military."

"Just with those in charge," Callen said.

"You know that this company does business with the Department of Defence?"

Callen shrugged. "Doesn't matter to me."

"What does matter to you?"

"Money. I figure that's all I have left to care about." He met Carter's gaze steadily.

"What about loyalty?" Carter asked.

"I tried that. It didn't work out too well."

"I pay very well for unquestioned loyalty," Carter said with a cold edge to his voice. "Think of me as your commanding officer. When I give you an order you will obey it."

"If I don't?"

"I think you're smart enough to know the answer to that. Do we understand one another?"

"Yes."

"Good. Mitch has a job for you and I have another meeting. I'll be watching your progress."

It was a threat and a dismissal. Callen stood and followed Frank Mitchell from the room.

NCISLA

Eric's piercing whistle drew the attention of everyone in the bullpen. "I've got Callen online," he called.

Sam didn't hesitate. He took the stairs at a run, arriving ahead of Kensi and Deeks. Hetty joined them almost immediately.

"G. Where the hell have you been?" he asked.

"Have you been worried about me?" Callen asked lightly.

"Damn right. What have I told you about going off the grid like that?"

"Sorry, Sam, I didn't have a choice. Eric, you should have a video feed now."

A view of the apartment appeared on the screen. The scene changed when Callen walked toward the door.

"We have aborted the operation, Mr. Callen," Hetty said.

The camera stopped and there was silence for a few heart beats. "Why?"

"We can discuss that when you return to the office."

"No. I met Brandon Carter today and my cover is intact. If we give up now Carter will continue to use threats and extortion to add to his fortune. Did you know Frank Mitchell's out of jail? He's a mean son of a bitch. I'm not going to let him hurt anyone else. "

"How did Mitchell get out?" Sam asked his brow creased with concern.

"I asked him that. All he'd say is that he had a good lawyer."

"We will check that out," Hetty said. "In the meantime I expect you to follow my orders."

"I'm not coming in, Hetty. There's a woman who works in the Finance department. They believe she has damaging information and that she is going to take it to the authorities. I've been told to deal with it. If I don't, someone else will and she'll die. I'm not going to have that on my conscience."

"Give us her name, G. We can protect her."

"What if she doesn't know enough to bring Carter's empire down?" he asked passionately. "We save her and the next person they see as a threat dies? There's no surveillance near Carter's office. He doesn't want there to be any record of his meetings or calls. I can get access to the floor and get a bug into his office without anyone knowing. With Eric's help I should be able to hack into his computer and download all the information. Please, Hetty. Give me another couple of days."

Hetty looked around at the rest of the team. Sam was simmering with anger. Neither Kensi nor Deeks would meet her eyes. Nell and Eric pretended to concentrate on their computers. It was her decision to make. "Concerns have been expressed about your state of mind," she said carefully. "Are you sure you can pull this off?"

"Have I ever let you down?" Callen asked in a hurt tone.

"I will give you two more days, Mr. Callen."

"Hetty!" Sam protested.

"He is wired now, Mr. Hanna. We will know where he is every minute of the day. You, Miss Blye and Mr. Deeks will never be more than a few minutes away if he needs help." She waited until Sam acknowledged her instructions with a brief nod. "Tell us about the woman."

"Her name is Amanda Fleming. She's an accounting clerk who had an illicit relationship with one of the vice presidents in the finance department. When he broke it off to save his marriage she took it badly and began to hint that she knew things that could be damaging to the company. He could have told her confidential information while trying to impress her, or she might have seen classified documents."

"Or she knows nothing and was just trying to get back at him," Deeks said. "A woman scorned is a dangerous animal."

"You'd know all about that," Kensi said, trying to lighten the mood.

"What happened to her former lover?" Hetty asked.

"Transferred, or at least that's the story everyone was told."

"You don't believe it, Mr. Callen?"

"Not for a second. His name's Paul Evans."

Nell's fingers flew over the keyboard. "He was transferred to the office in Madrid two months ago. A week after arriving he and his wife and children were killed in a car accident."

"Now do you understand why I'm not giving up?" Callen asked.

"If they learn that you are an agent they won't hesitate to dispose of you," Hetty warned.

"It isn't the first time I've been in that situation. We take that risk every time we go undercover. I can handle this."

"Very well. Tell us your plan for dealing with Miss Fleming."

Tbc

January, 2013


	10. Chapter 9

**A Dangerous Game**

**Chapter Nine**

Callen waited in the shadows, the chill running down his spine having nothing to do with the weather. For the second time in as many days he would have to act totally contrary to his nature by terrifying a young woman. Except that it no longer bothered him and that frightened him more than anything else that had happened during this operation. Paranoia required him to make this abduction look convincing. They couldn't afford any misstep that might compromise all the work done to get them to this point. Amanda Fleming was nothing more than collateral damage.

His right arm hung loosely at his side, gloved fingers curled around the handle of his gun. It was a tangible reminder of what his life had become. Kill or be killed; he couldn't identify any middle ground now. Nick Edwards had been trained to kill to order and that was the only future available to him. G Callen was no different.

He stepped further back into the darkness when he heard an approaching vehicle. His target lived in the house that had belonged to her parents. It was old and in need of repair, sitting back from the road and shaded by mature oak trees. It was an ideal place for an ambush. The headlights from her car didn't penetrate his hiding place. He silently waited for her to switch off the engine and checked that she was alone before stepping out onto the driveway. She was too busy rummaging in her purse to notice him and he was in the passenger seat, gun held low and pointing directly at her, before she realized her danger.

"Don't scream," he warned.

Her brown eyes were wide and the scream that had gathered in her throat became nothing more than a whimper. She held out her purse. "Take it," she said. Her alluring lips trembled.

"I don't want your money. Start the car." When she hesitated he pressed the gun harshly against her side. "I won't tell you again," he snarled.

It took three tries before she managed to turn the key in the ignition. "Where are we going?" she stammered.

He could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest through the thin material of her blouse. Her skin was lightly tanned and he had a fleeting thought of how it would feel to caress her body. He immediately felt disgusted with himself. "Back out of the drive and turn left. If you do anything to attract attention I will hurt you. Do you understand?" His sense of shame caused him to speak more harshly than he had intended.

"Yes."

Fear made her driving erratic and Callen was relieved that there was little traffic and no police on the back streets. He directed her toward the harbor and into a huge compound filled with shipping containers. By the time he ordered her to stop she was close to hysteria.

"Get out."

She stayed where she was, shivering and incoherent. He reached over to take the keys, got out and went round to the driver's side. After opening her door he dragged her out. Whatever she saw on his face made her trembling increase.

Callen shook her roughly. "You have information about Carter International."

"No…no. I don't know anything." She looked around obviously hoping to see someone who could help her.

Callen heard another car and Sam's voice coming evenly though his earpiece. "You weren't followed. It's time to calm her down."

A small part of him was disappointed. Her panic had given him an adrenaline rush and awoken a primitive part of his psyche. He could tell by her face that she had seen Sam's car and that she was clearly torn between hope and the fear that this new arrival was another threat.

He still had tight hold of her arm. "Listen to me," he said forcefully. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm a federal agent and the big guy in that car is my partner."

"I don't believe you," she stammered.

Sam arrived holding his badge. "He's telling the truth. I wish there had been another way but we had to make it look like you'd been kidnapped. There's a contract out on your life and this was the only way to keep you safe."

"A contract…?"

"I'll explain later," Sam said. "G, let her go."

Callen hadn't realized that he was still restraining her. His fingers sprang open and he backed away, suddenly horrified at what he had done. "I'm sorry." The words sounded inadequate but he didn't know what else to say to her.

Amanda's fear had turned to anger. "You bastard." She stepped toward him and raised her hand to slap him.

Callen clenched his jaw and stayed where he was. He deserved whatever she threw at him. Her palm connected with his cheek before she sank to the floor sobbing brokenly. He instinctively reached for her and she flinched.

"Don't touch me."

"You should go, G. I've got this."

"Tell her I'm sorry."

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm good. Keep her safe, Sam."

"I will." Sam took hold of his arm and steered him away from Amanda. "This isn't you, G. Remember that."

"Isn't it?" Callen stared sorrowfully at his friend and partner. "We need a break in this case soon, Sam." He didn't add that he wasn't sure how much longer he could stay under. Their conversation was being monitored by Eric and he had no doubt that Hetty was watching and listening.

"I'm taking Amanda to the boat shed. Kensi and Deeks will talk to her. We're closing in on Carter and we will nail that bastard."

"He's too careful. All the instructions come from Mitchell. What happens if we can't tie Carter to any wrongdoing?"

"He'll slip up eventually." Sam laid a hand on Callen's shoulder. "Hang in there for a little longer, partner."

Callen looked over to Amanda. She returned his stare with contempt. "I'll get rid of her car and then I'm going back to work. This will be my best chance to bug Carter's office." He rubbed his hand over his eyes. "Then I'm going back to the apartment to get a couple of hours sleep. I'll see you soon, Sam."

He got into the driver's seat of Amanda's car and drove away with his gut churning.

NCISLA

The camera secreted in the button on Callen's shirt had given Kensi a front row seat during Amanda's ordeal. She could feel the bile rising in her throat while watching Callen's rough handling of the young woman. There had been absolute silence from the people in the Ops Center. Deeks had gradually edged closer until his shoulder was touching hers. He didn't have to say anything for her to know what he was thinking.

The tension eased when Sam helped Amanda into the passenger seat of the Challenger. Kensi realized that she had been holding her breath in those last seconds before Callen left. She took a deep shaky breath.

"That was disturbing," Deeks said before being quelled by Hetty's ferocious glare.

"We should get to the boat shed." Kensi tried to keep her voice level and professional.

"Indeed, Miss Blye. Handle the young lady very carefully."

"Don't worry, Hetty. Deeks and I know what to do."

Kensi walked out of Ops and down to her desk to collect her car keys. She knew that Deeks was close behind and his quiet strength helped more than she would ever admit. "You drive," she said, handing him the keys.

"Really? I thought you said the other day that my driving made you nauseous."

"No. I said being in a car and listening to your constant chatter was making me feel sick. And your choice of music is just wrong."

"Don't blame me. It was Monty that chose the radio station."

"Uh huh. Monty has better taste."

"There's nothing wrong with the Osmond's greatest hits."

Kensi rolled her eyes and got in the car. She stared out the window replaying in her mind the last encounter with Callen and the events she had just witnessed on-screen. In both cases he had been deeply entrenched in his cover, only coming to his senses when prompted by Sam. How easy would it be for Callen to shed the specter of Nick Edwards once the operation was over? She massaged her tense neck muscles.

"We should go to Vegas."

Kensi turned her head to give her partner a confused look. "What?"

"You said you'd come to Vegas with me. We should go."

"We? Us? You mean together?"

"Sure. Why not? We can hit the casinos, see some shows and get wasted on cheap booze." Deeks changed lanes, cutting off another vehicle. A horn blared.

"Are you some kind of Frat boy?"

A blissful smile crossed Deeks' face. "Those were some seriously good days. All night drinking sessions; playing strip poker." He gave her a mischievous grin. "You should try it. Loosen up a bit."

"Why is it your conversations always end up with someone getting naked?"

"Don't pretend you've never thought about seeing this fine body."

"Oh, please! Could you be any more conceited? And, for your information, I've played strip poker and I'm very good at it. Not that you'll ever get to see me in action."

Deeks smirked and pulled into a parking space near the boat shed. "Feeling better?"

She glared at her partner, realizing belatedly what he had done. "I'm fine." She got out of the car and found that the tension that had built up in her body had disappeared. "Thank you."

"Any time." Deeks locked the car and strolled over to her. "You didn't give me an answer."

"Answer?"

"About Vegas."

She threw him a flirtatious smile. "Maybe." Kensi had the satisfaction of leaving Deeks speechless. Her happiness was short-lived.

Sam was waiting for them, sipping a cup of coffee. He gestured toward the interrogation room. "She's waiting for you in there and she is extremely pissed with us."

"I'm not surprised," Kensi said. She studied his face. When it came to Callen she could read Sam like a book. "You're worried."

"He's gone off the reservation, Kensi. When that happens he gets careless. I'm not sure he's going to make it back."

Tbc

Caroline

January 2013


	11. Chapter 10

With four active stories it has become hard to keep the story lines straight in my mind. I have decided to concentrate on one story at a time and this one is closest to the end.

**A Dangerous Game**

**Chapter Ten**

Kensi knew all about Amanda Fleming. Orphaned at eighteen when her parents died in a boating accident, she was now twenty-six years old. She had inherited the family home and a modest amount of money. Due to her new financial responsibilities she had opted to join the workforce instead of going to college. Her intellectual acumen had allowed her to move from basic office administration to a job in the finance department of Carter International.

For close to a year she had pursued an illicit affair with Paul Evans. He was fifteen years older than her with a wife and two teenage children. The relationship had terminated abruptly six weeks before he was transferred to Madrid.

When Kensi entered the interrogation room Amanda gave her a hostile look. The effect was spoilt by her dishevelled appearance and obvious distress. Bruises marred her left arm, visible testament to Callen's rough handling. Kensi felt empathy for the young woman even though she knew the ruse had been justified.

Amanda's glare was equally appraising. Kensi, conscious of her own battered state, tried to give a friendly smile. The attempt wavered when faced with Amanda's glacial façade.

"You can't keep me here," Amanda stated, her voice wavering.

Kensi sat, laying the folder she was carrying on the table. "My name is Special Agent Kensi Blye. I know you must have a lot of questions and I will do my best to answer them."

"You can start by telling me why I've been kidnapped by a Federal Agency."

"We're investigating Carter International. I can't give you any details except to tell you that someone there wants you dead. They think you know something damaging because of your relationship with Paul Evans."

"This is crazy." Amanda ran a hand through her tousled brown hair.

"I'm afraid it's the truth." With a pang of regret Kensi opened the file and turned a black and white photograph toward Amanda. It showed the mangled remains of a black limo. It was inconceivable that anyone who had been in the car could have survived. "Evans and his family were killed in a car crash. It wasn't an accident. We have good information that you are next."

Amanda turned pale and her hand flew to her mouth. "Dead? No…you have to be mistaken."

"I'm sorry."

"I tried to reach him. I thought he was ignoring my calls because of his bitch of a wife." Her breath hitched. "They're all dead? Even his children?"

"Yes."

"Oh, god." Amanda's hands were shaking uncontrollably and she looked like she was going into shock.

The door opened. Deeks came in carrying a glass of water which he put down close to Amanda. "Drink this slowly. We know it's a lot to take in. Take your time. We're here to help you." His voice was low and soothing.

Although Amanda looked at him warily she took his advice. Deeks backed away and leant against the wall with his arms crossed.

"How do you know I'm a target?" Amanda asked hesitantly.

Kensi knew she had to be careful how much she revealed. Callen's cover was already in jeopardy because of the need to extract Amanda. "We have inside information. The threat is real and you need to stay in protective custody until we can neutralize it."

"How long?"

"I can't answer that. It could be a few days or it could be weeks. You will be taken to one of our safe houses and guarded by agents at all times."

"The man who kidnapped me…he said he's an agent."

"He is."

"Keep him away from me," she said fiercely, showing her spirit for the first time. "He looked like he enjoyed hurting me."

Although Kensi wanted to deny it, to stand up for her team leader, the words stuck in her throat. Finally she said, "You don't have to worry about that. He won't be a part of your protective detail."

"Can you think of anything that might have made them think that you have dangerous information?" Deeks asked.

Amanda looked away, embarrassed. "Paul was with me one night when his wife called. I don't know what she said but he left in a hurry. The next morning I found a flash drive on the floor beside the bed. It must have fallen out of his pocket. I was going to return it to him only I never saw him again."

"Did you look to see what was on it?" Kensi asked.

"Not at first. I kept expecting to hear from him. Then we were told that he'd been transferred overseas and I got angry. I thought he had asked for the move to get away from me. How egotistical can you get!" She brushed away a tear and took another sip of water. "When I tried to access it I found it was encrypted so I asked a tech friend of mine to hack into it. It contained a lot of boring financial information."

Kensi felt a flutter of excitement. This could finally be the break they needed. "What did you do with it?"

"It's at the house."

"We need to get it. It could be enough to prove our case."

Amanda picked up her bag and produced a set of keys. "It's in the desk drawer in my study."

Kensi took the keys and stood up. "Thank you, Amanda. We'll arrange to move you soon. Do you need anything?"

"I want this nightmare to be over. I just want to go home."

NCISLA

Callen drove Amanda's car to the long stay lot at the airport and parked. It was a good place to hide the vehicle until it could be returned to its owner. He sat for a long time, staring sightlessly out of the window. The tension headache that had started to build after he left his partner had reached almost crippling proportions. He removed the button cam and ear wig so that he could be alone with his thoughts. It would cause consternation back at Ops but he couldn't deal with knowing his every move and sound was being monitored.

His team had watched while he terrorized an innocent young woman. His only solace was that they had not seen his face and the perverse thrill he had experienced. They couldn't be any more disgusted with him than he was with himself. He was so deeply immersed in the character of Nick Edwards that he could no longer tell right from wrong. He had become a monster. Bile rose in his throat. Maybe Hetty had been right when she tried to abort the operation. He was no longer in control of his actions. It was tempting to call his Operations Manager and tell her that he was coming in. Strangely it was the thought of Kensi and Amanda that stopped him. They had both suffered more than was fair or reasonable so that he could bring down Brandon Carter. It would be an added insult to throw away that sacrifice.

Swallowing down his revulsion with his actions he got out of the car, locked it and tossed away the keys. He removed his gloves and took a minute to compose his expression. After catching the free shuttle to the airport he took a cab back downtown. A block away from the office he ducked into an alley. He activated his ear wig and the button cam. Hetty's voice immediately resonated in his ear.

"Mr. Callen. We were worried about you. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Hetty. How's Amanda?"

"Shocked and frightened. We'll see to it that she is well cared for. She has a flash drive which apparently contains financial information. Miss Blye and Mr. Deeks are on their way to collect it. If it has enough evidence of wrongdoing there is no reason for you to return to Carter International."

Callen closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The air hung hot and heavy around him and rats skittered in the darkness scavenging for food from the dumpsters. He shuddered. "I have the chance to bug Carter's office. We don't know what's on the flash drive and won't get another shot at this. I have to go back, Hetty."

"You're risking your life unnecessarily," Hetty chided.

"I've taken a risk from the minute I stepped into the prison. I'm armed now and you're monitoring everything. There's no reason to believe that anyone suspects Nick Edwards. So far as they know I have committed murder twice on their orders. I'll be in and out in thirty minutes."

He wasn't being honest with her. Even if they found the evidence they were looking for he still intended to go back. Carter and Mitchell weren't just corrupt, they were ruthless killers. He could take Mitchell down at any time. What was missing was evidence that Carter knew what Mitchell was doing and was actively giving the orders. His former cell mate would never turn on his brother-in-law and the surveillance equipment might not yield enough useful information. Carter was smart, avoiding giving instructions directly. He had to stay under long enough to get solid evidence of Carter's guilt.

"Very well but this is the end of the operation. I expect to see you back in Ops tomorrow morning for a thorough debrief."

"I'll be there," he lied.

Callen entered the building through the underground parking lot. He used his security pass to get access to the top floor, stepping warily out of the elevator. It was dark and deserted. He pulled out a small penlight and shone it on the door leading to Carter's study. He was surprised to find that it was secured by a conventional lock. Obviously Carter was confident that no-one without authority would get this far. He pulled on his gloves and hunkered down, holding the light between his lips while he manipulated his lock pick. Within seconds the door was open.

He turned off the light and entered the room. He wasn't expecting any traps but would proceed cautiously. It took several minutes for his eyesight to adjust. During his earlier visit he had picked out the location for the bug. There was a tall lamp beside the desk with an angled head. By placing the small surveillance device in just the right place they would be able to see Carter and anyone sitting on the opposite side of the desk.

"Picture coming on stream, Eric," he said. "Tell me what you see."

"Good view of the desk and the chairs on both sides," Eric reported.

"Sound?"

"Coming through clearly. If you attach another listening device to the bottom of his phone we'll be able to hear both sides of any conversation."

Callen picked up the base of the phone and followed Eric's instructions. "His laptop isn't here. Either he's taken it with him or it's locked away at night."

"We should be able to see the screen if he uses it at his desk," Eric said. "You're good to go, Callen."

He took a last look around the room. There was probably a safe and he regretted not having enough time to search for it. However, it was too risky to stay any longer. He left, locking the door behind him. The ride down in the elevator seemed to take forever and he kept expecting it to stop at one of the other floors. He had a cover story in place in case he encountered any other security guard. Finally he was safely back on the street.

"I'm out," he said.

"Excellent work, Mr. Callen. Now go home and get some rest," Hetty instructed.

"Good night, Hetty." Callen removed the ear wig and button cam, stowing them safely in his jacket pocket. He would leave them at the apartment with his phone and then he would drop off the grid.

Tbc

Caroline

February, 2013


	12. Chapter 11

**A Dangerous Game**

**Chapter Eleven**

After the best night's sleep he'd had in weeks Sam arrived at the office in a good mood and later than usual. The relief had been indescribable when Hetty called to tell him that the undercover phase of the operation was over. It was a beautiful day and he'd enjoyed the drive while listening to a mix of his favorite Rap artists. He was looking forward to working with his partner again even though he had a lingering concern about Callen's state of mind. It was quiet in the bullpen. Kensi and Deeks were both working diligently on their laptops. Sam dropped his go-bag by his chair and went to pour a cup of coffee.

"Morning, Sam," Kensi said, looking up briefly.

"Hey," Deeks said cheerfully. "Where's our fearless leader?"

Sam set the coffee pot down carefully. "He isn't here?"

"Haven't seen him. Maybe he overslept."

"G doesn't over sleep."

Sam pulled out his phone and speed dialled Callen's number. "It's turned off." He tried the number for the phone Callen had used during his undercover work. "Dead." He looked around and spotted Hetty walking to her desk.

"Good morning, Mr. Hanna. Is something wrong?"

"Have you heard from Callen?"

"Not since last night. He isn't with you? I assumed you were coming in together this morning."

"I've tried calling. There's no answer. Is his comlink still active?"

"No. He turned everything off once he left Carter International last night."

"I'll check his house. Kensi and Deeks can go to the undercover apartment. Call me if you hear from him."

Sam turned away and hadn't gone more than two steps before Hetty told him forcefully to wait. An ingrained obedience to authority held him motionless.

"Sam, wait," Hetty said more gently. "We need to think this through. If Mr. Callen has chosen to disobey my orders we can't do anything that might blow his cover."

"What if he's in trouble?" Sam asked, beseechingly, turning back to face the Operations Manager.

"I'm not suggesting that we do nothing. Mr. Deeks can go to the apartment. He lived there as Brian Edward so his return won't seem suspicious. Miss Blye needs to stay out of sight. Remember that she is supposed to be dead. You can safely check Mr. Callen's home."

"Hey, Guys!" Eric called from the top of the stairs. "You need to see this."

"There isn't time, Eric," Sam said.

"You **really **need to see this."

Sam and Hetty headed for the stairs followed by Kensi and Deeks. When they reached Ops and saw what was being broadcast on the main screen Sam could understand Eric's panic.

"One of these days I swear I'm going to kill him," he snarled, anger mixing with relief.

The picture from Brandon Carter's office was clear and showed three men, one of whom was their elusive lead agent. Callen was dressed in a smart dark suit, white shirt and black tie. He looked rested, relaxed and totally unconcerned by the roller coaster of emotions he must have known his team had suffered.

Sam glanced at Hetty. Most people would think that she was unaffected by Callen's decision to remain undercover in direct contravention of her orders. He knew her well enough to note the slight tightening of her mouth and a subtle rigidity of posture.

"It appears that Mr. Callen has decided to continue with the operation," she said in a deceptively mild tone. "Mr. Deeks, you will have to revive your alias as Brian Edwards. When you make contact with your 'brother' you will leave him in no doubt about my displeasure."

"What do you want me to do?" Deeks asked. "Bring him in?"

"You don't have a hope in hell of doing that if he doesn't want to come," Sam said.

"Unfortunately Mr. Hanna is correct. However, you will inform him that I expect him to wear his comlink and he will have to accept you as his backup. If he refuses we will have to consider a more direct means of persuasion."

"Why is he doing this?" Kensi asked, unable to take her eyes off the screen. "The information on Amanda's flash drive proves beyond doubt that Carter has bribed senior members of the government and military."

"He doesn't know that. Even if he did I'm afraid he would still have gone back. With Carter's connections he is unlikely to go to jail. He'll face a significant fine which probably won't scratch the surface of his net worth. He could easily elude justice by moving abroad and selling his services in more corrupt areas of the world where paying a bribe is standard business practice. My guess is that Mr. Callen is seeking evidence of a different nature."

Sam shook his head in disbelief. "He's trying to prove that Carter is guilty of intimidation and conspiracy to commit murder. The damn fool's going to get himself killed!"

"Have faith in your partner. We'll provide him with backup even if he thinks he can manage without it. If we see or hear anything to suggest that his cover is under threat we will pull him out immediately."

"I'm worried about him, Hetty."

"So am I but he hasn't left us with any choice."

NCISLA

Callen was very careful not to look directly at the camera. He knew his partner would be seething and that he could expect to face an unpleasant interview with Hetty once the operation was over. In his mind it was worth it. The previous evening he had packed up his scant belongings and moved to a nondescript hotel on the opposite side of town. He'd left the comlink and button cam on the coffee table and had removed the battery from his phone. It was just unfortunate that he had been summoned to Carter's study so soon. He'd expected to be able to stay off the radar for a few days.

"I've been thinking about how best to use your talents," Carter said, waving him toward a chair. "You clearly have far more potential than many of my employees."

"Thank you." Callen had hoped for an opportunity to make direct reference to the 'murder' of Amanda Fleming but so far Carter had given him no opening.

Frank Mitchell was once again standing behind their employer, arms crossed and an appraising stare fixed on Callen. "We've decided that you're suited to our special projects. Matters which require a certain subtlety."

"What projects?"

"You'll be briefed when your special skills are required. Don't be too impatient."

"Projects like last night?" Callen pressed. He was disappointed when Carter neither agreed nor looked curious about his activities. Mitchell, however, looked annoyed.

"I suggest you learn discretion, Nick," Mitchell said. "Mr. Carter trusts me to maintain discipline. I would hate to have to teach you a lesson."

Callen stood up, his jaw tense and his gaze unfriendly. "I warned you when we were inside. Don't threaten me, Frank."

"Nick, stop being so prickly," Carter said soothingly. "We have a chain of command here. You understand how that works. Mitch is simply reminding you of that. If you continue to follow orders there won't be any need for punishment."

"Push me too far and I walk," Callen warned.

'That would be a mistake. You would do well to remember that we gave you an alibi for the night your girlfriend died."

Callen buried his satisfaction. Although Carter had been careful with his words this was the first acknowledgment that he knew what was going on. "That sounds like blackmail."

"Simply a friendly reminder. Now you will have to excuse me. I am expecting an important call."

Callen acknowledged the dismissal and left the room, followed closely by Frank Mitchell. The older man said nothing until they were in the elevator. As soon as the door closed he shoved Callen hard in the chest, forcing up against the wall.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded. "We took you in, gave you a good job, and all we get is attitude?"

"Get out of my face," Callen warned. "If you want me to continue to do your wet work you can start giving me some fucking respect."

"I put my reputation on the line for you." Mitchell backed just far enough away to appease Callen. "I thought you could be trusted."

"I can. You've given me no other option but don't get the idea that you can screw with me. If anyone tries anything I'll fight back and you know how much damage I can do."

"You've got a lot of fire in your belly. I like that as long as you use it for our benefit."

They reached the floor where Mitchell's office was situated and the doors slid open. Callen stepped out of the elevator and waited for Mitchell to join him. "I guess after two years in solitary my manners could use a little work," he said by way of apology.

Mitchell laughed. "That's an understatement. Come on, I've got another job for you."

Frank Mitchell's office wasn't close to being as palatial as Carter's but the carpet and furnishings were expensive and the large window let in plenty of natural light. Whoever said that crime didn't pay was wrong. A vacuum sealed coffee pot sat on a side table beside four bone china mugs. Mitchell picked it up. "Coffee?"

"Yeah, thanks." Callen sat down. "Black." The adrenaline that had kicked in during the argument in the elevator was starting to dissipate, leaving a sour taste in his mouth. "What do you need me to do?"

"We had an asset in the procurement office at Camp Pendleton. His name is Jack Tillman." Mitchell paused to take a drink. "He called yesterday to say he'd been forced into retirement. It's unlikely it has anything to do with the work he's done for us. He's a surly bastard and probably just pissed off someone with the authority to get rid of him."

"Why worry about him then?"

"He's demanding more money. I want you to encourage him to be less greedy."

"How far do you want me to go?"

"Nothing physical…not yet. A strong warning should be enough. Make sure he understands that your next visit won't go so well for him." Mitchell opened his drawer and pickup up a smart phone. "You'll need this instead of that piece of garbage you've been using. I'll have Tillman's address uploaded later today."

"Thanks." Callen drained his cup, slipped the phone into his jacket pocket and palmed a small listening device which he surreptitiously attached to the underside of the chair. "Do you want me to report back later?"

"Tomorrow will be soon enough. Why don't you take a couple of hours to start looking for a new place to stay? That shit hole of an apartment doesn't give the right impression."

"Sure, Frank." Once Callen was outside the office he heaved a sigh of relief. His latest assignment shouldn't pose any problem. He didn't have to do damage to Tillman, just frighten him and he'd become very good at that. The dark part of his nature stirred in anticipation.

He left the building through the main door and had taken no more than a half-dozen steps before he heard a voice behind him.

"Did you miss me, big brother?"

Callen turned abruptly and came face to face with Deeks. "Oh, crap."

Tbc

Caroline

February, 2013


	13. Chapter 12

Just a short chapter to keep the story moving along.

**A Dangerous Game**

**Chapter Twelve**

Any other time Deeks would have been amused by the surprise on the face of his team leader. Instead he felt a flutter of apprehension because the surprise quickly changed to fury. He barely resisted the urge to back off only because the thought of explaining himself to Hetty and Sam scared him more than Callen's anger.

"You shouldn't be here," Callen said coldly.

"I wouldn't have to be here if you'd followed Hetty's orders. She's seriously pissed and I wouldn't want to be the one to face that little ninja barracuda." Too late he remembered that Hetty and the rest of the team were listening. He winced in anticipation of a swift reprimand. There was comprehension in Callen's expression and a flicker of unprofessional satisfaction.

"Goodbye, Brian." Callen turned away.

Deeks grabbed Callen's arm to prevent him from leaving. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Let go," Callen hissed.

Deeks tightened his grip when he felt the building tension in Callen's body. The order had been delivered in a tone laced with cold anger. A few passersby gave them quick curious glances. The majority subtly edged further away and quickened their steps.

"Can we go somewhere and talk?" Deeks asked.

"There's nothing to talk about." Callen had made no attempt to free his arm although he had half-turned to look Deeks in the eye. "Let go before I break your wrist."

There was no doubt in Deeks' mind that the threat was serious. He let go. "You can brush me off and I'll just keep coming back. Even if you beat the crap out of me you won't make me give up. It's time to end your personal vendetta against Carter and accept that we're a team. Are you willing to risk your life and career to bring him down?"

"Yes."

"I'd really hoped that wasn't going to be your answer." Callen started to walk away forcing Deeks to hurry to catch up. "Hetty send me to be your back up. This will go a lot smoother if you work with me instead of against me."

"I don't need back up." Callen stopped at a cross walk to wait for the lights to change.

"What happens if you get the proof you're looking for and something happens to you before you can pass it on? Your pig-headed stubbornness could get more people killed. Carter isn't going to stop. With the evidence we have he won't even spend twenty-four hours in jail before one of his high-priced lawyers gets him out on bail or the charges are thrown out on a technicality. I understand what you're trying to do…we all do. Do you want to risk throwing away everything you've been through these last few weeks?"

"I don't matter."

"There're a lot of people who'd disagree with that."

The traffic stopped and Callen strode across the road, halting abruptly when he reached the sidewalk. "What do you want?"

"Trust would be nice. I know you think I'm a liability but you're wrong. I'm good at my job. I'd also like to know if you think everything Kensi and Amanda went through was worth something because right now you only seem to be thinking about yourself." He saw Callen take a deep shuddering breath and wondered if he had finally gone too far.

"That was a cheap shot," Callen said quietly. "You know they matter to me."

"Do I? You're doing a damn good job of hiding it."

For the first time his team leader broke eye contact first, looking stricken. "I can't be trusted around any of you. Don't you understand that? It's become too easy to hurt people to get the job done."

Deeks knew that he had finally broken through and that he had to tread carefully. "You lost your way. The things you did…that's not who you are. If you cut yourself off it will only get worse."

Callen's shoulders slumped. "Alright. What does Hetty want me to do?"

"You can start by wearing an ear wig." Deeks handed over the small piece of high-tech equipment. "Next you can brief me on everything that's happened today. I only saw a few minutes of your meeting with Carter before I left Ops. He's a cool son of a bitch but he seems to trust you."

"I'm useful." Callen began to walk slowly along the sidewalk, glancing in the windows of the buildings they were passing. "The man following us would suggest that I've still got a way to go to earn his trust."

"He's having you tailed?" Deeks asked, mortified that he hadn't noticed.

"Yes and we've been seen together so I guess I'm going to have to trust you. Mitchell wants me to pay a visit to the man they've been paying off at Pendleton."

"Tillman. Sam told us about him. Hetty spoke to one of her contacts high up the chain of command and arranged to have him kicked out of his job."

"He's trying to squeeze more money out of Carter. I've been told to warn him off. You don't need to come with me. Go back to the apartment and wait. I'll catch up with you later."

"Fair enough. Just remember to use the ear wig so that Eric can track you."

"Fine, now get lost."

They parted company and Deeks walked back to his car. Something was nagging at him although he couldn't say what it was. On the drive to the apartment he passed on what little information Callen had shared, including the fact that he was being watched. The first things he saw when he entered the apartment were the ear wig, button cam and phone with the battery removed. A quick check confirmed his fears. Callen had cleared out all his personal possessions. The capitulation had all been a cold and calculated sham and he'd fallen right into the trap.

"Damn! Damn! Damn!" He had no idea how he was going to explain this to Hetty and Sam.

Tbc

Caroline

February, 2013


	14. Chapter 13

Thanks for reading and for the reviews. The story is coming to a close and there will probably only be one more chapter after this one.

**A Dangerous Game**

**Chapter Thirteen**

Callen wasn't surprised to find his partner waiting for him when he arrived at Tillman's house. He parked behind Sam's Challenger and got out of the car. It was early evening, warm with a gentle breeze. People were out walking their dogs or mowing the lawn, normal activities that had no place in his life. He waited for a young couple to pass. They held hands and were totally engrossed in each other, paying no attention to their surroundings. His lips curled in contempt. Their facile existence held no appeal. He strolled over to Sam, his feelings now hidden.

Sam looked him over from head to toe. "Nice suit. Makes you look like a funeral director."

"I missed you too," Callen replied wryly responding to the tone and not the words. "Have you been waiting long?"

"A couple of hours. You took your own sweet time getting here."

"I had to run some errands," he said vaguely.

"Uh huh. You realize that Deeks is having a melt down because you suckered him."

"I did it for his protection."

"You lied to Hetty and lied to Deeks," Sam said, his voice tight with anger. "Now you're lying to me."

"You're wrong." For a moment Callen wasn't sure why he was bothering to defend himself. "They have pictures of Kensi and Deeks together. We've already had to stage one killing. What if they send me after Deeks or, worse, they send someone else?"

"Alright, you have a point, but they don't know me."

"It's too late to bring you in." He glanced toward Tillman's house, eager to get on with his assigned task and becoming impatient with the need to justify his actions.

"Then why tell Deeks where we could find you?"

"To tell you to stay away. I'm safer on my own."

"That's bullshit."

"You have to trust me, Sam."

"How am I supposed to do that when I can't believe a word you say? I've a good mind to knock you on your ass, lock you in the trunk and take you back for Hetty to deal with."

Callen eyed his partner warily. He wasn't fool enough to think that was an empty threat. Sam was nearing the end of his patience. Even knowing that he couldn't resist rising to the bait. "I'd like to see you try."

"Don't tempt me."

This was all taking too long. He'd delivered his message and to his mind this conversation was over. "This is something I need to do."

"Why?" Sam walked forward, barring Callen's way.

Callen had spent hours pondering the answer to that question and wasn't in any hurry to share his conclusions. "I don't know how to explain it," he hedged.

Sam crossed his arms and scowled at his partner clearly intent on pushing the issue. "Try."

He'd worked with Sam long enough to know that his partner was not going to accept vague answers or excuses. He licked his dry lips. "There were times in my life when I made choices. They weren't always good but they could have been a hell of a lot worse. If I'd taken a different path I could have been exactly like Nick Edwards…lost, betrayed, lashing out at everyone to hide the empty feeling inside."

"Nick Edwards isn't real."

"Yes, he is. He's the part of me that enjoys the violence and intimidation. I like knowing that people are scared of me. Do you know what a rush it was to have some of the most dangerous men in the country respect me while I was in prison? It made me feel powerful."

"All the more reason to come home."

"No. I can only bury these impulses again if I bring Carter down." He hesitated before finally telling Sam the truth. "I need to earn redemption. Something good has to come out of the bad things I've done."

"What happens if you can't find the evidence you need?"

"I don't know."

"You're a damn fool, G. You've made this personal and that makes you vulnerable."

He could tell how worried his partner was for his safety and he regretted that. "I'm sorry, Sam."

"I'm not sure you are." Sam glared at him until Callen was forced to look away. "Deeks gave you an ear wig. Where is it?"

Callen looked embarrassed. "I threw it in the trash."

"Do you know how much those things cost? Hetty'll take it out of your pay."

"I wasn't sure I still had a job," he said quietly.

"Pull any more stunts like this and you won't."

He recognized Sam's unspoken capitulation. "What are you going to tell her?"

"I haven't decided yet."

NCISLA

**Three weeks later.**

"How much longer?" Sam asked.

"The Director has left that to Mr. Callen to decide. He has gathered a remarkable amount of information over the last few weeks. We have enough evidence to indict people at all levels of the military and government."

"But he still has nothing to prove Carter is giving the orders to harass, maim or kill those he sees as a threat," Sam said in frustration. "We can't keep covering for him. One day he'll be faced with the choice of doing something he won't be able to live with or blowing his cover."

"When that day comes he will walk away."

"Are you sure about that, Hetty? He's in so deep I don't think he knows which way is up anymore. Last time I saw him I almost didn't recognize him. He's become harder and there wasn't an ounce of compassion left. He thought staying under would be his salvation. He was wrong."

"I understand your concern. However, we have our orders."

"Hetty! Sam!" Eric called. "I think we have a problem."

Sam's blood ran cold. "What's wrong?"

"Carter has a visitor. We ran facial recognition. His name is Robert Shelby. He's a FBI agent."

"Oh, bugger," Hetty said, setting off for the stairs at speed with Sam at her heels.

They joined Eric and Nell in the Ops Center and watched with horrified fascination as the whole operation crumbled to dust.

NCISLA

Brandon Carter wouldn't have wasted his valuable time on Shelby if the agent hadn't proved to be so useful. Thanks to information provided in return for a substantial payment they had managed to evade several investigations which could have been embarrassing. They met in person every couple of months. It made Shelby feel important and kept him on side. Today, though, it was clear that something was wrong.

"I thought I was the only Federal Agent on your payroll," Shelby said angrily, leaning forward in his chair. "Bringing in someone else risks exposing me."

"What are you talking about?" Carter asked.

"Callen. He was a Fed. Did time with the CIA and DEA too. He's been under the radar for the last half-dozen years. I worked with him a time or too and wouldn't have thought he could be bought."

"I've never heard of anyone called Callen."

"Quit lying. I saw him with Mitch when I came in. Early forties, five foot ten, short hair and blue eyes."

Carter repressed the urge to swear. He brought up Nick Edward's personnel file on his computer and turned the screen so that Shelby could see it. "This him?"

"Yes." Shelby frowned. "What the hell's going on, Brandon?"

"Shut up." Carter picked up his phone and dialled Mitchell's extension. "Mitch, get up here now."

Shelby had started to sweat. "He's under cover? Shit, Brandon, how could you let a Federal Agent infiltrate your organization? He'll bring us all down."

"Stop panicking. We'll deal with him."

Frank Mitchell strode into the room. "What's wrong?"

"Nick Edwards isn't who he says he is. Robert's just identified him as an agent. You brought a fucking spy into the company."

"There has to be a mistake. There's no way he could have fooled us for this long."

"His name is G Callen," Shelby said. "He's one of the best deep cover operatives I've ever seen. He can become anyone he wants and stay under for months without blowing his cover."

"Where is he?" Carter asked furiously.

"Waiting in my office. What do you want me to do with him?"

"Take him to the warehouse. Find out who he's working for and what he knows. Then get rid of him. Meet me at the airfield in three hours. We need to get out of the country while we wait to see how bad things are going to get."

"What about me," Shelby asked.

"There's no reason to think you've been compromised. Go back to the Bureau and find out everything you can about Callen. I'll see to it that you get a bonus."

Mitchell's face was suffused with anger. "I'll tear that piece of shit apart," he promised. "He'll talk and then I'll cut his fucking throat."

Tbc

Caroline

February, 2013


	15. Chapter 14

It looks like I was wrong about only needing one more chapter to wrap up this story. Lots of hurt and no comfort in this chapter.

**A Dangerous Game**

**Chapter Fourteen**

The call from Eric telling him that his cover had been blown triggered an immediate adrenaline rush. He drew his SIG from the shoulder holster and cautiously opened the door. He'd instinctively known something was wrong when Mitchell left the office so quickly after taking a phone call. In a way it was a relief; one way or another the operation was finally over. He should have given it up days earlier except that he'd kept hoping Carter would make a mistake.

A quick glance showed the hallway was empty. He held the gun unobtrusively by his side while he walked rapidly toward the stairway. He was less than twenty feet away when twin barbs pierced the skin on his back. Callen had never been on the wrong end of a taser before. The sudden intense pain and loss of muscle control sent him to the ground in a boneless heap. As quickly as it had started the agony stopped. He took a shaky breath, preparing to stand when the cycle repeated.

There was no room in his consciousness for anything but the awareness of pain. A boot connected with his ribs, turning him abruptly on his back. He couldn't manage more than a whimper when his weight drove the probes deeper into his body. He had lost his grip on the gun and his vision was too hazy to allow him to find it. Rough hands relieved him of his phone and knife before he was pulled to his feet. The probes were ripped free of his skin and feeling began to return to his limbs.

The beauty of a taser from the perspective of law enforcement was that it incapacitated the victim without doing any permanent damage. Callen didn't think that concern for his wellbeing had crossed Mitchell's mind. The fact that they clearly wanted to take him alive could only mean one thing and a chill ran over his skin. Mitchell and Gunther stood in front of him, both armed. He was aware of someone standing behind him, blocking any means of escape. He briefly considered trying to bluff his way out but could see from Mitchell's expression that he would have no success.

"How did you find out?" he asked.

"One of your former colleagues identified you."

That was news. He should have known that Carter would have contacts in law enforcement. "What happens now?"

"We walk out of here and you come quietly."

Callen's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "I don't think so." He was desperately stalling in the knowledge that his team had his location. If Mitchell succeeded in moving him any chance of rescue would disappear.

"You've taken away all my options," Mitchell explained. "I've nothing left to lose. If you cause a fuss I'll start shooting whoever gets in my way. Do you want innocent deaths on your conscience, Agent Callen?"

"No."

"Good. Before we leave you will allow Gunther to search you to see if you're wired."

"I'm not."

Mitchell laughed and there was a hysterical edge to the sound. "You'll forgive me if I don't believe anything you tell me. You have an exceptional capacity for lies."

Gunther holstered his gun before approaching. He checked Callen's ears, looking surprised when he didn't find anything. A thorough pat down yielded nothing although it did give him time to regain his self-possession.

"I told you," he said in an insolent tone that would have made Nick Edwards proud. Mitchell's jaw muscles clenched and Callen could see the effort it took the older man not to shoot him.

"Move," Gunther growled, shoving him toward the elevator.

"Careful of the suit," Callen said with a provocative smirk. It earned him a backhanded slap to the face but he reckoned it had been worth it.

The journey to the car park was relatively free of incident. The elevator stopped twice. Both times he had a gun pressed against his side while Gunther discouraged the people waiting from entering the car. He was led to a cargo van with blacked out windows.

"Secure him," Mitchell ordered.

His arms were wrenched behind his back and metal circled his wrists. He hid his relief that they had chosen the only type of restraint that he had a chance of escaping. After being shoved into the back of the van it was disappointing to find that Gunther would be joining him. Under the eagle eye of his guard there wouldn't be much chance of picking the lock on the cuffs. He left the bobby pin in its hiding place.

"D'you know the penalty for killing a Federal Agent?" he asked. The engine started and the vehicle began to vibrate. He was in for an uncomfortable ride. Gunther stared at him mutely. "At best it's a life sentence without chance of parole." He settled his shoulders against the side of the van. "It's more likely you'll be executed." There was still no reaction. He sighed and fell silent.

NCISLA

During the minutes after the phone call to Callen the tension in the Ops Center reached boiling point. Kensi and Deeks had joined them and no-one spoke while they waited for their team leader to confirm his escape.

"He didn't get out," Kensi said softly echoing the thoughts of everyone in the room.

"I suspect you're right Miss Blye."

"We have to find him," Sam said while a feeling of panic built steadily in his chest. "How may warehouses does Carter own?"

"Eight in Los Angeles. Another three in San Diego," Eric reported.

"We can forget the ones that are out-of-town. Mitchell's on a tight timetable. Show us a map with the locations," Sam instructed. His heart sank when he saw how spread out they were. "We can't cover all of them and we can't risk sending in LAPD."

"If the intent is to torture and kill Mr. Callen they won't want to be anywhere there are likely to be witnesses. Which are the most isolated?" Hetty asked.

"One near the airport and two at the Port of Los Angeles." Eric highlighted the locations on the map.

"I've checked the surveillance cameras in the vicinity of Carter International," Nell said. "There's one that gives a good view of the exit from the car park." She projected the picture on the main screen. "In the past five minutes only two vehicles have left. One was a Mercedes sedan with one female occupant. The other was a van."

Sam stared intently at the footage of a van leaving the car park and turning on to West Fifth Street. "Freeze it," he said. "Damn. All the windows are blacked out. It's impossible to tell if Mitchell or Callen are in the vehicle."

"Never the less it seems to be our best hope," Hetty said. "Get on the road, Mr. Hanna. We'll track its route and see if it's headed toward one of the buildings we've identified. Miss Jones, keep watching the car park just in case. I will organize arrest warrants for Brandon Carter and Frank Mitchell and alert LAPD."

"What about the FBI agent?" Deeks asked.

"It will be my great pleasure to call his Director."

"Let's go," Sam said. "Callen's running out of time."

NCISLA

The unpleasant odor that Callen always associated with the docks was the first thing he noticed when he was ordered out of the van. It was a putrid mix of diesel and raw sewage. The smell caught in the back of his throat making him want to gag. The vehicle had been parked at the entrance to a building. He only had seconds to look around before he was hustled inside. They appeared to be in a little used area of the Port.

The interior was filled with packing crates of varying sizes. When Gunther ordered him to stop he began to fumble for the bobby pin. The other man had stayed outside leaving Callen facing only Mitchell and Gunther. If he could free himself from the shackles he had a better than even chance of using the element of surprise to overpower them.

"What Agency do you work for?" Mitchell asked.

Callen got a precarious grip on the bobby pin and transferred it to his left hand. "I don't see much incentive to answer your questions."

A blow to the head drove him to his knees on the concrete. The bobby pin slipped out of his fingers. A second punch from Gunther knocked him on his side. He spat up some blood and tried unobtrusively to search the area around him for his makeshift lock pick.

"What information did you give them?" Mitchell persisted.

"Enough to put you and Carter away permanently."

He saw Gunther's boot heading for his ribs and frantically scrambled backwards. It was enough to temper the force of the kick although it still drove the breath from his lungs and added to his collection of bruises. His fingertips had brushed against the bobby pin and he knew it was now somewhere underneath him. He used his bound hands to push himself into an awkward crouch.

"No-one knows where you are," Mitchell sneered. "Tell me what I want to know and I'll make it quick."

"Not the most tempting offer I've ever had," Callen said unevenly. His fingers closed on his one hope of salvation.

Gunther reached down and pulled him to his feet. He swayed unsteadily for a second before catching his balance. The slender piece of metal slipped into the keyhole and he began to manipulate it.

"It looks like I'll have to be more persuasive." Mitchell drew out a knife. "I think I'll start with the left eye."

Tbc

Caroline

February, 2013


	16. Chapter 15

This was a very hard chapter to write. Getting inside Callen's head is a dark and depressing experience. A few people have expressed disappointment that there wasn't more Callen/Deeks interaction. Initially I had thought there would be but that isn't the way the story developed. I am sorry if that has made the story less enjoyable.

**A Dangerous Game**

**Chapter Fifteen**

The chilling threat to damage his sight caused a deeply visceral fear which momentarily paralysed Callen. His efforts to unlock the cuffs faltered while he gazed at Mitchell in horror. This was no idle threat. Mitchell wanted answers and was prepared to play hard and dirty to get them. This was another glimpse into the mind of a psychotic man who had thought nothing of setting Callen up against Mendez and his men in prison as a deadly test.

He backed away until he collided with a stack of crates. Gunther followed, grinning nastily, and took tight hold of his arm to hold him in place.

"Wait!" Callen shouted. His brain started to function again now that the initial shock had passed. There was no obvious avenue of escape but he did have some advantages. Gunther and Mitchell had both holstered their guns, underestimating the threat he posed. He just needed to buy some time to get loose. "I'm with NCIS."

Mitchell stopped. "So everything you told us was a lie."

"Yes." He felt the cuff surrounding his right wrist spring open.

"The woman?"

"A member of my team." He grinned to hide his fear. "She's good at what she does."

"I saw her body," Gunther said.

"You saw what you expected to see."

Mitchell walked closer. "What evidence do you have?"

Callen needed him to come within reach before making his move. "I'll let the DA tell you that."

With a wordless snarl Mitchell closed the distance between them, placing the sharp edge of the knife just under Callen's left eye. Now that the time had come to fight Callen felt a deep calm settle over his mind. On an earlier mission he had told Nell to trust her training and that was exactly what he was going to do. But, before he could make his move there was the sound of shouting outside the building followed by three rapid shots.

The noise distracted Mitchell allowing Callen the time to lash out with his foot, catching his victim in the balls. It didn't have the power he would have liked but it did remove the immediate threat. He pulled free of Gunther's grip, swinging his left arm at the man's face. The sharp edges of the dangling cuffs caught Gunther by surprise, raking a deep cut down his cheek. He howled in pain and Callen hit him with a hard right hook.

Gunther fell to the ground and Callen tried to get to the gun. He was knocked off balance when Mitchell plowed into him. He landed flat on his back, stunned when his head bounced off the concrete. Mitchell followed him down to the ground, eyes watering and his face purple, but with his hand tightly curled around the knife hilt. Callen blocked the first attempt to stab him, suffering a cut to his forearm in the process.

"Federal Agents. Drop the knife."

Callen felt a huge sense of relief when he heard Sam's voice even though he had no idea how his partner had found him. Deeks yelled at Gunther to stay down.

"A little help, Sam," he called breathlessly. In his peripheral vision he caught sight of a sturdy plank swinging toward Mitchell's head. He locked both hands around Mitchell's right wrist, straining to keep the knife away from his chest.

The plank connected with all Sam's power behind it. Mitchell was propelled off Callen and left stunned. Kensi kicked the knife away before rolling Mitchell on to his stomach so that she could cuff him.

Callen lay still, his chest heaving, hardly able to believe that his ordeal was over.

"Are you planning to lie there all day?" Sam asked, offering his hand.

"I'm thinking about it." Callen groaned when Sam pulled him to his feet. The sudden movement had caused pain to flare up in his ribs and back and his other bruises were clamoring for his attention. "How did you find me?"

"We're very good at what we do even when our stubborn team leader thinks he can manage without backup," Sam replied. He touched his earwig to activate it. "We've got him, Hetty. He's more or less in one piece." He listened for a moment. "Hospital?" When Callen shook his head Sam's mouth tightened with annoyance. "Probably not," he told their Operations Manager. "Did we get Carter? Good. We've got one down and two in custody including Frank Mitchell. We're bringing them in."

Sam moved a few feet away to continue his conversation with Hetty. Callen took off his jacket to check the wound on his arm. The sleeve of his shirt was ripped and bloodstained. After a careful examination he decided it could wait until they reached the boat shed.

It hadn't escaped his notice that neither Kensi nor Deeks had looked at him. Deeks continued to stand guard over Gunther who sat on the ground looking sullen. Kensi was tending to a deep gash on Mitchell's head and wasn't being particularly gentle.

"Thank you," Callen said softly.

Deeks shot him a glare filled with simmering resentment. There was no acknowledgment from Kensi. In contrast to the disinterest of his team, Mitchell was staring at him with murderous intensity.

"Paramedics are on the way," Sam reported. "They'll have to confirm that Mitchell's fit to be questioned." He gave his partner a severe look. "You need checked out too."

Callen accepted the inevitable with bad grace. "What did Hetty say?"

"That you're to go home."

"I don't need to go home," he protested.

"We'll be questioning Carter and Mitchell and you can't be a part of that. You're too close to this case, G. Hetty's orders."

"Give me your phone."

"No. It's time for you to learn how to follow orders."

"I'm the leader of this team."

"Not today." Sam's harsh expression softened. "A lot happened while you were gone." He ushered Callen away from their prisoners and the younger members of the team. "Deeks didn't take it too well when you blindsided him. He thinks you don't trust him to do his job."

Callen bowed his head. "What about Kensi?"

"She's been spending time with Amanda. It's not easy being in protective custody for weeks, unable to contact friends or family. I'm not going to lie to you, G, Amanda's messed up. You could have handled things differently."

"I know." Callen's gut was churning. "Will she be okay?"

"Kensi or Amanda?"

"Both."

"Given time."

"Where does that leave us?" Callen asked, dreading the answer.

"I don't know. Hetty will debrief you and she'll probably come up with some creative punishment for disobeying her orders. She's put me in charge of interrogating the prisoners which means you get patched up and go home. Understand?"

Callen nodded wordlessly before walking quickly out of the warehouse to try to escape the reality of the damage he had done.

NCISLA

It was after three a.m. when Callen accepted that he wasn't going to get any sleep. His report had been uploaded into the NCIS system at midnight. At some point that evening he had known what needed to be done. That decision had been made with profound regret. He had hoped it would calm his mind and allow his exhausted body to rest. Unfortunately that hadn't been the outcome. After a quick shower he dressed and left the house.

Although the LA streets were never empty the traffic was light and the journey passed in a blur. He was too preoccupied to enjoy his last time driving the Jaguar Coupe. The office was locked. He used his key, identified himself to the security guard and went to his desk. While waiting for his laptop to boot up he leaned back in his chair and looked around. NCIS had been his home for nearly six years. This building had been his sanctuary more times than he could remember. His colleagues had become his family, sticking with him through good times and bad until he lost his focus and let them down.

His letter of resignation was only two lines long yet it took him an hour to draft. He signed it with his surname and sealed it in an envelope which he addressed to Hetty with a steady hand. It would be easy to leave it on her desk and be far away by the time she arrived. Although he'd considered doing that he knew she deserved better. He made a pot of coffee and waited.

People gradually started to arrive for work. He was often amazed by the number of support staff they needed so that they could do their job. Those who passed close to his desk acknowledged him, unsurprised to see him and probably assuming he had spent the night on the sofa. He was pouring his fourth cup of coffee when he heard Hetty's voice.

"You're here early, Mr. Callen."

Turning to face her was one of the harder things he had to do in a life that had never been easy. He was pretty sure that he looked like hell and that Hetty would see straight through his forced composure. "I wanted to talk to you before the others arrive."

"My office."

He put down his cup and picked up the envelope from his desk.

"I hope you're not thinking of doing anything stupid," Hetty said as she sat down.

"That depends upon your definition of stupid." Callen laid the letter on the desk in front of her.

Hetty made no move to pick it up. "What's this?"

He was disappointed that she was going to make him say it. "My resignation." He pulled out his badge, looked at it wistfully and put it beside the envelope. His gun and the car keys soon joined the pile.

"I thought I had taught you better. Walking away from a difficult situation is not the solution."

"This time it is." He sank wearily into a chair. "They don't trust me and that makes my position untenable."

"How do you know? Have you asked them or is this just an excuse?"

The accusation stung even though he knew it was justified. "What do you want me to say Hetty? That I went 'dark side'? We both know that's true."

"What will you do?" she asked, not rising to the bait. "I assume you don't intend to rejoin any of the other Agencies."

"I haven't made a decision yet. I've enough money saved to see me through the next few months."

"There are plenty more companies like Carter International. Perhaps you could take a job with one of them."

Callen flinched. "It's not like you to be cruel. You know what would happen if I did that."

"I'm not sure I do. I know what you are afraid would happen. That's not the same thing at all. If, as you seem to believe, you are beyond any hope of redemption we wouldn't be having this conversation. Whatever you might think I believe your conscience is still intact. I would urge you not to throw away your career. The problems with your team can be mended with patience and good will on all sides."

Callen stood up, unmoved by her plea. "Thank you for everything you've done for me, Hetty. I've made up my mind. Tell Sam and the others that I'm sorry. You know where to find me if you need me to give evidence."

"Mr. Callen…"

"Goodbye, Hetty." He had reached the end of his endurance and left the building without looking back.

Tbc

Caroline

February, 2013


	17. Chapter 16

I am humbled and excited to see that this story has received nearly 100 reviews. A heartfelt 'thank you' to everyone who is reading and, particularly, for those who take the time to send a review. This isn't a long chapter but I wanted to set the story up for the final resolution and I am going to be mostly offline for the next 10 days. This story was inspired by a report of a real bribery and corruption investigation involving military contracts. There was even an attempt to bribe an FBI agent which was probably a very bad decision!

**A Dangerous Game**

**Chapter Sixteen**

The mood in the bullpen was subdued. The interrogation of Carter and Mitchell had gone on long into the night before they were formally handed over to LAPD. In addition to charges related to corruption the two men faced charges of aggravated assault, kidnapping and attempted murder.

Sam knew that he ought to feel happy. The operation was over, the bad guys were behind bars and his partner was back from a dangerous undercover assignment that had stretched all their nerves to breaking point. He checked his watch only mildly concerned that Callen hadn't yet shown up. He wouldn't be surprised if Callen had decided to take a well-deserved break to recover from his injuries.

He knew that Callen had been badly shaken by the decision to exclude him from the interrogation and that the harsh words at the warehouse had been taken to heart. He'd followed his friend outside only to be met with a cold reception. The shutters had come down on Callen's emotions. It was a habit formed in childhood from a primitive need for self-preservation. Sam had never been on the receiving end before and was worried about the permanent damage he might have done.

His temper began to fray when he noticed Deeks sneaking furtive glances in his direction. "You got something to say?" he asked.

"Um, maybe," Deeks replied, looking uncomfortable.

"Then get on with it. I'm not in any mood to play games."

Deeks fiddled with a pencil for a few seconds before blurting out what was on his mind. "I feel kind of bad about the way I treated Callen yesterday," he confessed. "I mean he thanked us for saving him and I didn't even ask how he was feeling."

"When did he thank us?" Kensi asked.

"While Sam was talking to Hetty. You were busy playing Florence Nightingale with Mitchell although I don't think she took so much pleasure in causing her patients pain."

Kensi's face turned ashen. "I didn't hear him. He must think I was ignoring him. I tried talking to him when the paramedics arrived and he just shut me down."

Sam's temper completely unravelled. "Didn't it occur to either of you that he was hurting and lost and needed some support?"

"I didn't see you giving him much support," Deeks snapped. "I don't know what you said to him but he looked like he was going to be sick."

"Yeah, Sam. What did you tell him?" Kensi asked.

Sam pushed away from his desk, his anger now a response to his own feelings of guilt. "I told him the truth. That he was too close to the investigation and that he'd screwed up when dealing with both of you and Amanda."

"If you put it like that I'm not surprised he walked out."

"At least I spoke to him, Deeks," Sam responded heatedly.

"I think you should all take a moment to cool off," Hetty said, walking over and glaring at each of them in turn. "Mr. Hanna, I would like a word with you."

Sam followed her to her office, relieved that she had intervened before the team completely fell apart. "What is it, Hetty?"

"Sit down, Sam. I'm afraid we have two serious problems. Brandon Carter made bail an hour after charges were laid against him."

Sam leaned forward, a ferocious scowl on his face. "How could any judge let that bastard out of jail? He ordered Callen's death and, with his money and connections, he's an obvious flight risk."

"His lawyer argued that Carter's instructions were open to interpretation. He claims his client only intended for Mitchell to interview Mr. Callen and then dismiss him."

"That's complete bullshit."

"Of course it is, but it was enough to persuade a judge to release Carter on bail of five million dollars."

"What about Mitchell?"

"He is safely locked away. I don't think he will smell freedom again until he is a very old man."

"Do you think Carter'll try to get to Callen again?"

"It's possible. That brings me to our second problem." Hetty unfolded a single sheet of paper and pushed it toward Sam. "He resigned this morning."

Sam picked up the paper and scanned the short letter. "You accepted this?"

"Did I have another choice? We can't force him to stay."

"This is my fault. I was too hard with him yesterday." Sam dropped the letter back on the desk and stood up.

"Where are you going?"

"To find him and shake some sense into him."

"What you do in your own time is your own business, Mr. Hanna. Right now it is necessary to run surveillance on Carter."

Sam glared at his Operations Manager. "Do you know how much pain he must be in to have done this? He needs his friends…his partner."

"It's too late. Assistant Director Granger has been informed and has instructed me to start looking for a replacement. You will step up to the role as Senior Agent in Charge and there is work to be done. Please sit down so that we can discuss the operational requirements."

Although he gritted his teeth and contemplated disobedience he couldn't see how that would help Callen. With a brief nod of acknowledgment he returned to his chair. "What's the plan?"

NCISLA

"I've been thinking," Deeks said, several minutes after Sam and Hetty moved away. He half expected some smart put-down but Kensi barely seemed to be paying attention. "We were the ones who got careless when we let one of Carter's men take a picture of us outside the prison. Callen was right; it compromised me. Instead of me looking out for him, he would have had to watch my back."

Tears glinted in Kensi's eyes. "The night we made it look like he'd killed me he was barely holding it together."

"I know. I didn't tell you what happened afterward. He came back to the apartment and I attacked him. He didn't fight back. I think I could have broken every bone in his body and he'd have let me."

"How could you do that?"

"I lost it when heard what he'd done. I'm sorry."

"You were looking out for me?" Kensi asked gently. "That's sweet, Deeks, but I can take care of myself."

"I know that. The truth is that he stayed in character, won the trust of his targets, and still managed to protect us. We owe him."

"What about Amanda?" Kensi asked. "I can deal with what he did to me…that was part of the job. The way he acted with her was different. She isn't a trained agent. She didn't know it was all an act."

Deeks shook his head. "I can't condone what happened and I can't explain it either except that he'd been through more than anyone should have to deal with. He's only human and sometimes we all make bad decisions."

"A surprisingly wise observation, Mr. Deeks," Hetty said.

Deeks jerked in surprise. "Would you stop sneaking up on people?" he asked.

"I do not 'sneak'. I merely move very quietly. I came to tell you both that you have a new assignment. Mr. Hanna will brief you."

"What about Callen?"

"Mr. Callen is no longer a member of NCIS."

"What?" Deeks yelled.

"He has handed in his resignation," Hetty said without a trace of emotion.

Deeks stood up to confront Sam. "Aren't you going to say anything? We're all responsible for this. How can you let this happen?"

"He's old enough to make his own choices. He's gone and we have to move on. Wait for me in Ops."

"I can't believe you're so calm about this," Kensi said sharply. "I thought he was your friend?"

"He is and I'm doing him the courtesy of accepting his decision. Ops! Now! Brandon Carter is out of jail and we're going to make sure he doesn't skip bail."

That news silenced Deeks and Kensi although neither looked happy about the situation. Sam watched them until they reached the top of the stairs leading to the Ops Center. "I hope you're right about this, Hetty."

"I'm always right, Mr. Hanna. This time it isn't you Mr. Callen needs to hear from. I am confident that he will respond to the impassioned pleas of your young colleagues. If we are lucky none of them will realize they are being manipulated until it is too late."

Tbc

Caroline

March, 2013


	18. Chapter 17

I'm sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. I have been enjoying some sunshine on vacation. This time I can confidently say there is only one more chapter after this one because I have finished the story. Reviews welcome as always.

**A Dangerous Game**

**Chapter Seventeen**

Callen hadn't been unemployed since joining the DEA when he was nineteen. His linguistic and other more deadly talents had ensured an interesting and varied career. It was a strange feeling to know that he no longer had a job to go to. The morning had been spent in aimless wandering around Venice beach. He loved the water. It had always had the power to calm his troubled mind. Standing on the sand he watched the turbulent water crashing to shore, bringing with it a horde of surfers; men and women living for the moment and the thrill of riding the crest of the waves. He envied them even though he couldn't imagine spending his life in such a meaningless pursuit.

That day the ocean failed to deliver its usual magic. Instead of feeling free he was weighed down by the enormity of what he'd done. The relief he had expected was missing. His injuries, while not serious, were troublesome enough to prevent him from putting on his wet suit and losing himself in a battle with the elements. When he went swimming all his concentration was fixed on the strength of the currents and the power required to safely reach the shore.

It was too painful to dwell on the events of the last few weeks. Instead his mind wandered down random pathways, always circling back to the mystery of his early life. Thanks to Hetty he had a picture of his mother and he knew a little about Clara Callen's history. He still had no idea about his father or how he and Amy had escaped Romania. Now that he had no other commitments he could perhaps return to the Black Sea and try to find out. There was no longer a threat to his life with the demise of the Comescu family so he could travel there without any risk.

That thought helped lift the lethargy that had slowed him almost to a crawl. He returned home with a new sense of purpose. He had contacts in Prague and Warsaw. They didn't know he was an NCIS agent and his change of status would mean nothing to them. The job would be harder without Agency resources but he was used to fending for himself and would manage perfectly well. He had just powered up his laptop when his phone rang and his dark mood returned.

Hetty's news about Carter's release had almost been enough to persuade him to withdraw his resignation. He sensed that she was waiting for him to say that. Instead he thanked her for the warning and hung up. In reality nothing had changed. His former colleagues would be fine without him and wouldn't welcome his return. His decision to isolate himself from them was the right one.

He took the threat posed by Carter seriously. Although he had relinquished his SIG he wasn't helpless. Callen unlocked a small fireproof box that he kept hidden in his closet. It contained two Taurus 24/7 pistols with the capacity to hold sixteen bullets. He also had four full magazines, more than enough to stop Carter and anyone else they might send against him.

The afternoon was spent stripping and cleaning the weapons. He found the familiar routine comforting. Once he was satisfied he stowed one in the waistband of his jeans and the other in a kitchen drawer. He had also made a decision, one he knew would be vehemently opposed by Sam and Hetty. He was under no obligation to forewarn them and had no intention of doing so. They would find out when the time was right.

It was early evening when he heard the sound of his doorbell. It wasn't unexpected. He'd wondered at times during the day how long it would be before he received a visit from Sam with a demand for an explanation. Although he was confident in his conclusion about the identity of his visitor he wasn't going to take anything for granted. He removed the safety on his gun and opened the door cautiously. It was a total surprise to see who was standing there.

"I wasn't expecting you." He pulled the door fully open.

Deeks gave him a smile which contained more than a hint of embarrassment and held out a six-pack of beer. "Kens and I thought you might like some company."

"Hi, Callen," Kensi said, meeting his piercing gaze for a second before looking away.

Callen felt a flutter of nerves which he covered by clearing his throat. "Come in." He eased the safety back into place and returned the gun to its hiding place.

"Expecting trouble?" Deeks asked, noting Callen's actions.

"It doesn't hurt to be prepared." He led the way into the kitchen very conscious of the fact that neither Kensi nor Deeks had visited his home before. "I don't have anywhere to sit," he said. "Sorry."

"That's okay." Deeks opened a bottle which he passed to Kensi. "We've been sitting in a car all day watching Carter's house."

"You shouldn't be telling me that," Callen said.

"Why not?" Deeks challenged. "You're going to reconsider and come back. Right?"

Callen bought time by taking a drink. "You've had a wasted trip."

"We're not giving up that easily," Kensi said.

He studied her, noting the tension in her body and the tightness of the skin around her mouth. "You're not ready to work with me again. I don't blame you. I was a bastard and I'm sorry."

"You did your job," she protested.

"I got the job done. My methods were…questionable. I appreciate the effort but we all know it's not going to work."

"Why?" Deeks asked fiercely. "You haven't tried to work it out so I think it's time to listen to what we have to say. I was pissed as hell with you until I realized it wasn't personal. You wouldn't let Sam back you up either and I know you trust him with your life."

Callen couldn't mistake the sincerity in Deeks' voice. "I trust all of you," he replied truthfully.

"I figured that out eventually, once I'd stopped feeling sorry for myself. D'you know how tough it was to face Hetty and Sam and tell them you'd fooled me for a second time?"

Callen looked away. "Sorry."

"When we heard your cover had been blown all I could think was that it would be on my head if you were killed. After we found you I got pissed all over again because you'd scared the crap out of me."

"That wasn't what Sam said." His friends words had cut deep and he hadn't realized how much they still hurt. The bitterness left him with a sour taste in his mouth.

"Sam was torn apart," Kensi said. "He was worried and angry that you had put yourself in danger. He didn't want to take charge of the interrogation. Hetty forced it on him. I think they were both trying to protect you."

"I don't need protecting." Given the circumstances it didn't surprise him to see scepticism. It wasn't a subject he was comfortable pursuing. Eventually he and Sam would resolve their differences. "What about you, Kensi? How do you feel?"

She met his gaze steadily, evidence of her courage. "I'd like some honest answers."

"What do you want to know?" He could see that she was conflicted. Wanting the truth and actually hearing it could be very different things.

"Amanda told me you enjoyed frightening her. Did you?"

Callen took his time to consider the question, walking to the window and staring out at the darkening sky. When he was ready he turned back to face her. He almost smiled when he saw that Deeks had moved closer to his partner to offer silent support. They made a good team. "Yes. I let the character of Nick Edwards overwhelm me. That was okay while I was in prison. It was the only way to survive. Once I was released I should have taken back control."

"Why didn't you," Deeks asked, an aggressive note in his voice.

"I don't know," Callen admitted. "It was too easy to stay in character I guess." He could see their disappointment. They had come looking for a reason to trust him again and he'd given them nothing. It was a balm to his bruised spirits to know that they hadn't entirely given up on him. Although he still fervently believed that he'd made the right decision he didn't want to part with them like this. "Deeks, if you had to hurt Kensi to maintain your cover and save her life you'd do it. You'd feel like shit but it'd be better than the alternative."

"Yes," Deeks said.

"That's how I felt after Kensi and after Amanda. The trouble is I didn't feel that way during the operation. I crossed a personal and professional line and there's no going back."

"You can't change what happened," Kensi said, "but we can help you deal with it."

He gave her a crooked smile. "Thanks Kens."

"So you're coming back to work?" she asked hopefully.

"I can't."

"What about Carter?" Deeks demanded.

"I did all I could and it wasn't enough. He still walked out of jail. It's time for someone else to try."

"I didn't think you were a quitter," Deeks said, his voice tight with anger.

Callen's jaw muscles tensed. "Be very careful," he warned.

"I've heard enough." Deeks slammed his beer bottle down on the counter. "Let's go Kensi."

Although Kensi shot him an anguished look she followed her partner without complaint. Callen waited until he heard the door slam before finishing his beer. He'd pushed them away again. He could pretend that it was for their protection and maybe it was. All he knew was that he was approaching the endgame when he would finally bring Carter to his knees.

NCISLA

Granger had been in Washington when he received the news of Callen's resignation. When he walked into the mission two days later he paused for a moment to watch the people in the bullpen. Sam looked homicidal, pounding the keys of his laptop with concerted vigor. Deeks' sat staring into space, eyes unfocused. He narrowed his eyes when his attention turned to Kensi. Her shoulders were slumped and the vivacious spark that told him she would one day be a great agent was missing. Sam was the only one to acknowledge his arrival and that was with a hostile stare.

Unperturbed Granger continued on his way to Hetty's office where he took a seat without waiting to be invited. "I don't see Callen. Don't tell me the Henrietta Lange master plan didn't work."

"Have you come to gloat, Owen?"

"Not at all. Callen's an excellent agent apart from his propensity to ignore orders he doesn't like. We can't afford to lose him. What went wrong?"

"He's stubborn, hard-headed and feeling guilty. It makes a potent combination."

Granger decided not to point out that Callen had learned many of his lessons from Hetty. He wasn't feeling suicidal. "You said Kensi and Deeks could get through to him."

"It seems they did. However, he still refused to reconsider his resignation."

"You look worried."

"I am. He said it was for others to find the evidence to convict Carter and that doesn't sound like him. I was sure that the news of Carter's release and the impassioned pleas of our two young people would cause a change of heart."

"Send Sam to talk to him."

"I would except that Mr. Callen has disappeared. There's no evidence of foul play so we must assume he has done so deliberately."

"Probably making sure Carter can't find him."

"Probably," Hetty said doubtfully.

"That reminds me. Sam looked like he wanted to shoot me when I arrived. I know he doesn't like me but there's more to it."

"I told Mr. Hanna that you had accepted his partner's resignation and instructed me to find a replacement."

"Oh?" Granger raised an eyebrow inquiringly.

"I thought it might add urgency to the situation. The longer Mr. Callen remains outside the Agency the harder it will be to get him to come back."

"They all see me as an enemy so I don't imagine that will do any lasting harm. I can only keep this from the Director for a few more days. Once I tell Vance it becomes official and it'll be too late to do anything about it."

"I am aware that I owe you a favor, Owen."

"I'll give you this one for free. Just don't tell anyone I said that."

"Hetty!" Eric called excitedly. "I've found him."

That drew everyone's immediate attention.

"Where is he?" Sam asked.

"You're not going to believe it," Eric responded.

"Mr. Beale!" Hetty snapped, losing her normal composure.

"Oh. Yes. He's just arrived at Brandon Carter's house."

"What?" Sam blurted out. "Why?"

Granger locked eyes with Hetty. "You were right. He's gone to finish what he started."

"I don't understand," Kensi said. "He wouldn't kill Carter and he can't arrest him."

"He's setting himself up as bait, Miss Blye. He's inviting Carter to attack him so that we can get the evidence we need. It's his final act of bravery for his country."

Tbc

Caroline

March, 2013


	19. Chapter 18

There is always a sense of sadness mixed with a feeling of accomplishment when a story comes to an end. This one went in a direction I didn't expect but I learned a long time ago to let it go where it will. Whenever I've tried to force my writing down a predetermined path I feel less than satisfied with the finished product. My grateful thanks go to all who took this journey with me. I hope you enjoy the ending.

**A Dangerous Game**

**Chapter Eighteen**

If his arrival had surprised Carter he was hiding it well. After being thoroughly searched Callen was ushered into a large room elegantly furnished with sofas, arm chairs and dark wood coffee tables. The windows gave a view of manicured lawns and carefully tended flower beds. After taking a leisurely look at his surroundings he finally turned his attention to Brandon Carter who waved him to a seat.

"I'd offer you a drink but I assume you're on duty." Carter sat down, completely relaxed and appearing only mildly curious.

"You'd be wrong." Callen made himself comfortable. "They fired me."

"Really? I thought you'd be hailed as the returning hero." The well-bred tone didn't hide the ironic or sarcastic nature of that comment. To most people Carter was still renowned as a war hero who had saved his men under fire. It was a reputation he would use to good effect.

"Yeah, me too. Turns out they didn't like my methods. Then you walked out of jail and they decided I was expandable."

"What a waste. I'd offer you a job but I don't like your methods either. Why are you here?"

Callen held Carter's gaze for longer than necessary before answering. "I have information for sale."

"Why should I believe anything you tell me?" Carter asked incredulously.

"Don't you want to know who betrayed you?" He looked over his shoulder, noting that Carter's bodyguard was still in the room. "I would if I were in your position."

"As you've taken the trouble to come to see me I suppose I should humour you," Carter responded.

"Frank Mitchell."

Carter's eyes narrowed. "You're lying."

"He made a deal," Callen continued placidly. "In return for getting an agent inside your organization he was promised full immunity. He'd spent a year in jail even though you'd promised to get him out and decided to take matters into his own hands."

"He knew I was working on it. These things take time."

Callen gave a half-smile. "He was tired of taking the heat for you. I bet he's with the DA now handing over all your dirty little secrets." He stood up. "That must be worth something."

His heart rate increased in anticipation of Carter's reaction. This was the wild card. Would he be thrown out or would Carter take retaliatory action? He knew there was a possibility that exposing Carter's Achilles heel could lead to a quick bullet to the head but he was gambling on the man wanting to establish the truth of the information first. Because he was looking for it he saw the brief gesture made to the bodyguard lurking behind him. There was the sound of the safety being removed from a gun.

"Let's find out if you're still lying," Carter said.

NCISLA

The van belonged to one of the most expensive wine stores in LA. It had been donated by the owner on the strength of one brief phone call from Hetty. Kensi parked within reach of the intercom and turned down the music blaring from the radio. Sam and Deeks crouched in the back armed with automatic rifles, pistols and knives. Their tactical vests displayed their affiliation to NCIS.

Kensi pressed the button and waited. Carter's house sat on five acres of prime real estate in Beverley Hills and the only way in was through the main gates. It had taken more than an hour to put the operation together during which time their nerves had become increasingly shredded. Callen was still inside, his physical condition unknown. Surprisingly it had been Granger who had been the calming influence, proving his tactical insightfulness.

"Yes?" A deep male voice rang from the speaker.

"Oh, hi," Kensi said brightly. "I have a delivery for Mr. Carter."

"He didn't order anything."

"Yeah, I know. It's a gift. Six boxes of champagne."

"Who from?"

"No idea, dude. I'm just paid to drive the van."

There was a pause before the man spoke again. "Get lost."

"Seriously?" Kensi said in disbelief. "If I take this back my boss'll lose the sale. D'you have any idea how much this stuff costs? He'll have a stroke and then he'll fire me. How'm I supposed to feed my kid if I don't have a job?"

"Alright, enough with the sob story. Bring it round the back."

"Thanks, dude. I owe you."

The gate began to swing open. Kensi released the safety on her gun, keeping it out of sight, and glanced over her shoulder. "Ready?"

"Yeah," Sam replied. "Just remember that our jurisdiction is tenuous. If Granger hadn't reinstated Callen's badge we'd have no probable cause to enter the premises. Let's do this quietly. No shooting unless they fire first."

Deeks activated his earwig. "We're going in, Eric. We need confirmation of numbers."

"Six heat signatures. Three are outside; one at the rear and two out front. The others are all in the same room on the ground level. From the plans it looks like a large sitting room at the back of the building. Let me know when you're in the house and I'll direct you."

"Let's go," Sam said grimly.

Kensi drove through the gate and followed the driveway round to the back of the house. The man waiting for her was tall and muscular with dark hair and eyes. He was very good-looking in a lethal kind of way. She stopped the van, put it in park and opened the window. His lips curved in an appreciative smile. She bit her bottom lip and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Hi, handsome," she purred. "Want to help me move the boxes?"

"Sure thing, honey."

"Did he just call you honey?" Deeks asked through the comlink. "I'm almost starting to feel sorry for him."

Kensi kept her smile in place until he moved away. She stripped off her blouse to uncover her tactical vest fitted over a dark blue t-shirt. She was right behind him when he opened the rear doors and froze at the sight of two pistols pointed at his head. Kensi jammed her gun against the back of his neck. "Back away slowly."

Sam and Deeks scrambled out of the van. Kensi searched their prisoner and took his gun before Deeks cuffed him and threw him in the back of the van.

"Stay," Deeks ordered, shutting and locking the doors.

"One down," Kensi reported.

"There's someone coming your way," Eric warned.

They took cover and waited. The presence of a van and absence of his colleague caught the guard's attention. Before he could investigate Deeks threw an arm around his neck, choking him unconscious. Silently he lowered the body to the ground and pulled the man behind some bushes. A zip-tie ensured the guard would stay down and out of the fight.

"Two," Deeks said.

"Alright." It was Nell who took up the role of providing instructions. "Bad guy number three is still near the front door. You won't get near him without a distraction."

"Kensi?" Sam said.

"On it." She slipped her gun out of sight and retrieved her blouse to cover the vest. "Be ready," she said. She took a deep breath and walked confidently round to the front of the building, stopping a couple of feet past the corner. "Hey," she called. "Your friends said to tell you they've got a situation."

The man she was facing was older than the other two and looked world-weary. He had a semi-automatic pistol dangling by a strap from his shoulder. In a single smooth move it was in his hands and pointing straight at her. "Who're you?"

Kensi raised her hands, feigning bemused terror and began to back slowly away. "Hey, man, chill out. I'm not looking for any trouble. They said to come get you."

With a soft grunt the man suddenly fell to his knees, Sam's knife buried between his shoulder blades. He pitched forward to land heavily on his face. Deeks darted out and felt for a pulse.

"I thought we weren't supposed to kill them?"

"He had a gun pointed at Kensi." Sam retrieved the knife and wiped it on the dark material of his pants to remove the blood.

"Oh, well that's alright then."

"Eric. Nell. We're going in. Which way?" Sam asked.

"Hallway to the left of the entrance. Then hang a right and it's second on the right," Eric said.

"Sam," Nell said, her tone conveying her concern. "Only two of the heat signatures are moving."

"Got it. Kensi. Deeks. Let's move."

When they reached the door Sam held up three fingers, silently counting down to zero. Deeks kicked the door open and Sam rushed in, confident that his team mates would be right behind him.

Carter's bodyguard froze in the act of reaching for his weapon. Sam left him to Kensi and Deeks. His focus was on Brandon Carter and the unmoving form of his partner. Callen lay sprawled on a cream and gold rug. Carter stood over him, a gun pointed at his head.

Sam caught Carter's gaze and held it. He couldn't believe he'd once admired this worthless piece of shit. "Drop it," he ordered.

Carter stepped away and crouched to place his gun on the floor. His expression was smug. "There's no law against protecting my own property. This man broke in and…"

"Stop talking," Sam growled. "Kick the gun over here and get on your knees with your hands behind your head."

"You are out of your league, Agent Hanna." Carter complied slowly with Sam's instructions. "You can arrest me now but I'll be out of jail again by dinner time."

Sam kept his gun pointed steadily at Carter while checking Callen's pulse. "He's alive. Get some help in here." He scanned the room. "Deeks, there are two cameras. Find the footage."

"Unless you have a warrant I'd advise you not to touch anything," Carter stated coldly.

"There's a Federal Agent bleeding on your expensive rug. That's enough to give us jurisdiction."

For the first time Carter looked less than composed. "He said he'd been fired."

Sam's grin was unpleasant. "And you believed him? I thought you'd have learned your lesson by now." He stalked over and secured Carter's wrists with a zip tie which he pulled deliberately tight.

With a groan Callen began to stir. He rolled over and looked at Sam through eyes almost swollen shut. "'Bout time you got here," he mumbled.

If he hadn't looked so battered and pathetic Sam might have been tempted to slug him. "We'd have been here sooner if you ever remembered to let us in on the plan." He helped Callen to his feet and let him to a sofa. "Sit down and try to keep out of trouble."

Callen sat hunched forward protecting his ribs. He ran his tongue over split and bruised lips. "Did you get enough to nail him?" he asked haltingly.

"Enough for an aggravated assault charge," Sam replied. "That'll put him away for a while." He studied Callen's face which had become very pale. "You want to explain yourself?"

"I couldn't let him walk away."

"I get that. Couldn't you come up with a plan that didn't involve getting the crap beaten out of you?"

"The options were limited." Callen straightened up enough to watch Kensi shoving Carter toward the door. "I had to provoke him so I told him Mitchell had been the one to set everything in motion."

"He believed you?"

"Not at first. He thought pain would motivate me to change my story. He needed to know the truth so I told him just enough to make him doubt Mitchell's loyalty. He didn't know about the bug in Mitchell's office and some of the information I gave him could only have come from Frank. That was when he lost control. I don't remember much after that."

"How'd you know we'd come?"

"I knew the house was being watched. The rest was on trust."

"You're a damn fool, G," Sam said with resigned exasperation.

"I know."

NCISLA

Callen was still on the sofa an hour later. He'd dozed for a while, been prodded by paramedics and was vaguely aware of the flurry of activity from his former team mates and other law enforcement officers. A couple of pain killers had taken the edge off his discomfort and he'd been given an ice pack to help reduce the swelling around the left side of his jaw.

He'd briefly spoken to Deeks and Kensi. Unlike his last rescue both were keen to make sure that he'd suffered no serious injuries. This time they'd acknowledged his thanks and praise for the smoothness of the operation.

For the last few minutes he'd been steeling himself for the inevitable encounter with Sam. His friend's gruff concern for his health had gone a long way to reconciling him to the truth of what Deeks and Kensi had told him about the reasons for Sam's uncharacteristic behaviour at their last meeting.

He greeted his former partner with a smile filled with embarrassment. "I guess it's time for a lecture."

Sam sat down wearily and shook his head. "What's the point? You never listen. Why did you leave, G?"

"You know why. You said it yourself…I did too much damage."

"I was wrong. We make a good team. Let us prove it."

"I'm sorry, Sam." His stomach lurched when he saw Hetty and Granger walk into the room.

Hetty's smile was heartfelt although she quickly resumed a bland expression. Granger looked as bad-tempered as ever. Callen thought about standing up to face them and quickly decided against it. His balance wasn't great and he'd been damned before he fell on his face in front of the Assistant Director.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Callen?"

"About as good as I look. Give me a minute and I'll get out of your way."

"There's no hurry," Granger said.

"If you want to yell at me can we get it over with?" he asked tiredly. "I'm sure I've broken any number of laws." He was grateful when Sam stood up and moved to his side. He could use an ally and Sam would never let him down in front of Granger.

"No-one's here to censure you, Agent Callen."

Callen frowned and glanced at Hetty who returned the look impassively. "I'm not an Agent. I turned in my badge."

Granger reached into the interior pocket of his jacket and drew out Callen's badge. He threw it into Callen's lap. "You left it at the office. That's the second time. The first time Director Vance gave it back. Now, it's my turn. It won't happen again."

When Callen looked at the badge he realized how desperately he wanted to accept this lifeline but he was afraid of the reaction from the others.

"What're you waiting for?" Sam asked.

"I don't…" He cleared his throat. "Nothing's changed."

"You're right, Mr. Callen. Nothing's changed. Your team needs you as much as they ever did."

"Sam?"

"I don't want the job. Too much paperwork."

"What about Kensi and Deeks?" He'd seen them follow Hetty into the room but couldn't read their expressions.

"Why don't you ask us?" Deeks said. "'Cause it's time we had our say."

"Alright."

"We want you back, Callen," Kensi said. "We've lost too many good agents…and friends."

"Are you sure?" His fingers closed around the badge.

"We're sure," Deeks said emphatically.

"Well, if we're done with the warm and fuzzies perhaps we could all get back to work," Granger said. "Agent Callen, get your team moving. The DA needs the evidence if he's going to keep that bastard in jail this time."

Callen struggled to his feet with the help of Sam's steadying hand. "You heard the Assistant Director," he said, looking proudly at each member of his team. "We've got work to do."

The end

Caroline

March 2013


End file.
